


A Portrait of Love

by msmadeline_clancy



Series: Jim and Melinda Greatness [3]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anxiety, Class Differences, Delia isn’t Ned’s mother, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Historical Dress, Historical References, Katie is melinda’s younger sister, Love, Nobility, Period Typical Attitudes/talk, Period Typical Sexism, Royal Wedding, Royalty, Slow Burn, Smut, Tension, Unwanted marriage, lady katherine - Freeform, lady melinda - Freeform, lord edward james, ned banks is a cute little squire boy who as usual loves the crap out of Katie, painter Jim, ser ned banks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmadeline_clancy/pseuds/msmadeline_clancy
Summary: Lady Melinda Gordon is betrothed to marry Lord Edward James and has been for ten years. However, when she meets James Clancy, an artist hired to paint a portrait of Melinda before her wedding, she doesn't know what to think. His blue eyes are like vast oceans; she would like to fall into them and escape everything that has fallen onto her shoulders.
Relationships: Beth Gordon/Tom Gordon, Katherine Gordon/Ned Banks, Melinda Gordon/ Eli 'Edward' James, Melinda Gordon/Eli James
Series: Jim and Melinda Greatness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747282





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meowser_Clancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/gifts).

**A/N: Lady Melinda Gordon is betrothed to marry Lord Edward James and has been for ten years. However, when she meets James Clancy, an artist hired to paint a portrait of Melinda before her wedding, she doesn't know what to think. His blue eyes are like vast oceans; she would like to fall into them and escape everything that has fallen onto her shoulders.**

**Also, Edward is totally Eli, I just changed his first name to make it fit the time period because Eli just seems to modern. There ghost whisperer characters are bound to make an appearance as I see fit too; most likely Delia, Andrea, Tim or Bobby, and possibly even Holly or other minor “friend” characters. Hope you all enjoy :)**

**Ages — **

**Melinda - 20** **  
** **Jim - 25** **  
** **Katherine - 14****  
** **Ned - 16****  
** **Eli — 22**

* * *

**** **  
**Horns were the first sound Melinda had heard all day aside from the rattling and rumbling of her carriage. Horses whinnied in dismay at the loud, brassy noise— as they stomped and rallied, the cart swayed back and forth in its stopped position. The midday sun was occluded by treacherous rain clouds which threatened to burst forth and douse her party with their seething brood.

It seemed the weather was unaware of its impertinence; today was Melinda’s twentieth birthday, though of course, the celebration planned for the day was not in regards to that. Rather, today was the official declaration of her betrothal, and in two weeks time, she would be married to Lord Edward James II of Rocksoria. Her home of Calyptica was a small spot of landlocked neatly against the coast by other, far more auspicious countries. Celebrations such as this were monumental occasions. Clouds and the rain that fell from them had no business rearing their lamentable bodies against what should have been her bluest skies.

The door to her carriage swung open, revealing the castle in Rocksoria, where she would spend the next two weeks celebrating her engagement. Her feelings of ill-disguised petulance bubbled just beneath the surface of her well-practiced smile as she accepted her footman’s helping hand and descend the stairs from her coach.

“The Lady Melinda!” called a voice to her left. Those people who lined the cobbled path in front of her bowed, knelt, and curtsied until she had passed.

“The Lady Katherine!” the same voice bellowed.

Melinda glanced over her shoulder to see Katherine exiting gracefully, and smirked to herself. If only their roles were reversed, Katherine would make a far better heir to their family than Melinda. Her sister shimmered in the light of the court, full of the youthful grace that she felt she so obviously lacked.

Even as she straightened her posture and clasped her hands demurely in front of her sweeping skirt, it felt wrong. As if every fiber of her being was straining against this one task set in between her and rest. She hoped it would rain, dismissing her earlier, childish annoyances at the weather.

Her mother waited just inside the main gate. Melinda curtsied and bowed her head as she knew was proper. Her long, full gown hid the shaking of her knees as she waited for her mother's hand upon her shoulder. It came, instead, to her chin, and guided her space to look upwards.

“My beautiful Melinda,” said her mother, eyes soft. “Stand.” Melinda did as she was told, standing just to the side of her mother, who wound her fingers through her trembling ones. Her mother leaned towards her, turning her head downwards to whisper into Melinda’s ear. “Are you nervous to see your betrothed? It is not as though he has not spent time in your company before.”

“No, mama,” she replied faintly. “Simply hoping against the rain.”

The woman nodded slightly at this, squeezed her daughter's fingers, and released her. Her sister was curtseying before them. Their mother touched a hand briefly to her shoulder and brushed past them both.

“Our mother,” Katherine said politely, weaving one arm through hers and falling into step directly beside her. “Seems to be in a better mood and keep you in her favor today.”

Melinda appraised her sister before responding, glancing swiftly between her and their mother’s disappearing form in front of them. “Perhaps,” she speculated, tone light. “But perhaps if you were to be married in two weeks time and securing the family line, you would also see the very,” she stressed the word with a pressured squeeze of her sister's wrist, “faint light of her love as well.”

Katherine laughed, a tinkling noise that set her more at ease than any generic gesture their mother had ever done. “Perhaps indeed, sweet sister.“ They continued forward through the castle grounds, skirts rustling around them. “Do you think I will ever be married, as you are, one day?

She nodded slowly. “You do not have the duty of bringing an heir to our throne,” she whispered, “as I do. But I’m sure our mother will find a man to wed you to. Hopefully, one you care for.”

“If only to empty my estate for her own,” Katherine reasoned.

Melinda laughed now, a lower sound than that of her sisters. A drop of water hit her face, and she looked up, squinting at the dark grey clouds. “The rain is upon us,” she said, squeezing her sister’s hand before releasing her arm. “We would do best not to dally.”

Another blast of horns guided them into the castle, the yellow light of flickering torches cast mutable shadows over them. The rain came down in sheets moments after they both made it through the wide double doors. Melinda heard one of her ladies shriek in surprise; soon the rain was creating vast and opaque waves of rain that swept through the grounds with the wind.

It soaked their party through, who had followed the sisters at a respectful pace and we're now running to get under cover. Melinda ushered them in, placing one hand on her maid, Andrea, who’s hair stuck to her forehead and neck where it had come out of her perfectly pinned updo.

“Is everyone as wet as you are?” she asked.

Andrea nodded. “If not worse, my lady.” The girl looked out the front doors, away from the princess, towards the girls still running into the castle.

Andrea wore the standard that all Melinda’s ladies-in-waiting wore: dresses whose colors matched those of her own. Today, blue of varying shades, all darker than her own, and a navy cape buttoned at the throat. Her hair had been pinned away from her face and neck; this gave Andrea a doeish look. All the girls had different shades of blue ribbon running through their hair, denoting a position within her party. Andrea’s ribbon was almost black, navy was its hue.

“Please escort everyone to change their skirts and cloaks. Take down your hair until it’s time to get ready,” said Melinda firmly, squeezing Andrea’s shoulder. Her lady nodded and ushered the other girls away as she turned back to her sister. “I am hopeful your quarters are near to mine.”

“As am I, dear sister,” replied Katherine with a smile. “If they are, perhaps I can steal your chambermaid, as mine seem to grow more useless by the day.” They both laughed.

Quick footsteps from behind had Melinda turning around, and a man with a bright smile and tousled golden curls on the top of his head stopped in front of her and bowed deeply.

“Lady Melinda,” the man said, kissing the ring on her proffered right hand.

“Ned,” she replied with a smile. “How nice it is to see you again. Have you met my sister before?” 

“I don’t believe I have had the honor,” Ned said, slowly moving to stand and glancing at her sister beside her.

“Sweet sister, this is Eddard Banks of Rocksoria, he is Lord Edward’s squire,” she introduced him, smiling at her. “And Ned, this is my sister Lady Katherine.”

Her sister curtsied gently as he bowed deeply to her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve only had the honor of meeting a few knights in my lifetime.”

“My lady may just call me Ned if you wish.” Ned stood, smiling at her sister and offering his arm to both women. “I’ve been sent by Lord Edward to escort you both to your chambers.”

Melinda looped her arm delicately over his and smiled back at her sister, beckoning her to follow suit. The castle seemed to Melinda a great deal smaller than how she had remembered it to be in her youth. Then again, she had been a great deal smaller herself as well.

Free reign hadn’t seemed like such a luxury then, either; though now Melinda doubted whether she’d ever had such a thing, or rather if her spatial confinement has been limited slowly over the years. Like water brought up to boil, she thought blithely.

Any child of hers would have to be brought up differently. She would insist on it.

“So, Ned,” she said, breaking the silence between the trio as they made their way up yet another flight of stairs, “Any better luck with women since I last was here?”

“None so much, my lady,” Ned replied with a chuckle.

Melinda’s smile saddened and she patted his hand. “You’ll find someone one day soon,” she replied.

“One can hope,” he said as they stopped, moving from her grasp to gesture her towards a large set of double doors, he bowed again. “These are your chambers, Lady Melinda.” She curtsied slightly and put one hand on the handle to the door. “Your sister, Lady Katherine’s room is to your left.”

She nodded. “Show her personally, if you will. And who should I elect to notify my mother when we are dressed?”

“I shall have some of your ladies within to assist you posthaste, my lady.” Ned stepped lightly away from her, arm still locked with her sister.

“That would be wonderful.” She said to Ned, then glancing at her sister. “Will I see you tonight, sister?”

“Of course. See you tonight, sister,” Katherine replied sweetly as she began to walk away and was already laughing at something Ned has said to her when Melinda glanced back before she pushed open the door to her chambers.

She had grown used to overly elaborate rooms - so much to the point that they bore her. Her four-poster-bed sat squarely in the heart of the room, a looming requisite pushed against the far wall. It was made up of silk sheets and a downy comforter embroidered with no small amount of gold thread. Pillows of all sorts and shapes sat against the headboard, too many for her to count.

Exhausted from her ride and the requirements of conversing as a lady, Melinda moved to the large bed and sat lightly on the edge. The balls of her feet still pressed against the oak flooring, and one hand rested on the bedpost beside her. She reached up with her free hand to the pins in her long dark hair, removing them and letting it fall in soft waves around her face.

A light knock came from her door.

“Come in,” she said.

Andrea entered, followed by a long-faced, golden-headed girl whom she did not yet know the name of. They both curtsied lightly, then took their usual places beside the bed.

Melinda took as deep a breath as she could and stood. “I must change from my traveling clothes,” she said, keeping on hand on the banister. She pressed the other to her stomach. “I understand my dresses were sent ahead.”

“Yes, milady,” Andrea said while she came around the bed and stood in front of her, already beginning to undo the hooks that gathered the front of her gown. “Holly, will you fetch a pitcher of water to wash the lady’s face?” The long-faced girl nodded and hurried from the room. Andrea pulled the light yellow gown off her shoulders and draped it gently across the bed. “Would you prefer a green or blue gown, milady? I see no reason to remove your corset and petticoats.”

Melinda grimaced. “I should like to rest for a while,” she replied, removing her silk kerchief by pulling it from beneath her bodice.

“Perhaps not just yet,” replied Andrea with a tentative smile as she began to unlace her skirt. Then Holly entered again with a large porcelain pitcher clasped in her hand. “I’ll collect your dress while you wash your face.” Andrea moved around the back of Melinda to remove the skirt fully and drape it gently across the bedspread.

“Yes, of course,” she paused for a moment, “well if we must change my dress now, the green will do, as that is the one with the shorter sleeves.” Melinda leaned down, allowing Andrea to pull the skirt off over her head.

Her lady nodded and removed the few remaining hair pins from her dark brown hair. “Would milady prefer to wear no farthingale tonight?” Andrea asked.

“If you must require me to wear three petticoats to fill out that skirt, I should rather do that by far,” she replied.

Melinda moved to the table where Holly stood beside a bowl of water. The bowl was beautiful - another piece of porcelain painted a deep blue. She cupped the cold water and brought it to her face. It shocked her skin but she did it again, hoping to revitalize herself from the long carriage journey. Still bent over the bowl, she accepted a linen cloth from the long-faced girl and patted her face dry with it.

“Milady,” Andrea said quietly, “I require your involvement.”

Melinda sighed, but bit the inside of her cheek and forced a smile. “Of course.”

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, Edward James was pacing his quarters, awaiting an audience with the queen. There was a hard rap on his door that made him jump a little, breaking him from his concentrated memorization of how he wanted to beseech Lady Beth.

“Enter,” he said impatiently, pausing only to see who it was. Ned entered, bowing hastily before shutting the door behind him. “Are the preparations ready?” Edward asked, resuming his pacing. “Did you see Melinda and Katherine in their rooms?”

“Yes, my lord. Katherine and Melinda are each in their chambers getting—” Ned said, but was interrupted.

“What about Lady Beth?” Edward asked.

“Well, you see, my lord—” Ned started again. 

“And?” Edward cut across him and his tone was harsh, unyielding in its vitriol.

“Lady Beth does not wish to take any audience with you at this time, my lord.” Ned bowed his head, avoiding his eyes, which flashed cruelly. “She says she is tired from her journey and will see you in only two hours for the festivities tonight, but wishes to remain undisturbed until then.”

Edward’s face was set in a discordant sneer, and he tucked his thumbs into the tied waist of his breeches, then reached up to straighten his black jerkin’s collar. “Leave me,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “Go fetch a flagon of scotch for me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ned muttered softly.

As soon as the boy was gone from the room, Edward pulled from his pocket an ornately carved wooden box. This held Melinda’s betrothal ring; it had been his mother's and her mother before her. An old tradition — a family heirloom. He needed to seek council with her mother as soon as possible.

* * *

“Your Eminence,” called Edward, hurrying to catch the white-haired cardinal before he entered his private chambers. “I was hoping to have a word with you, in regards to Lady Beth.”

“My lord,” the cardinal replied, bowed, then opened the door to his chambers, allowing him inside. “What do you wish to commune with me?”

“I beseech you to find me an audience with Lady Beth before this evening's gallantries,” Edward said, crossing his arms over his chest as the old man took his seat across from him. “In regards to my engagement with her daughter, Lady Melinda.”

“You are aware that I am only here to oversee the wedding which, I hope, will be done in two weeks? I am not milady’s advisor,” said the cardinal, shuffling the parchments in front of him.

“I am aware,” Edward said, teeth gritted. “But I also know Lady Beth takes your opinion in high regard.” 

The cardinal paused halfway to putting on his glasses, lifting his eyes without lifting his head. “I shall see what I can do. Now if, milord, has no further issues, I should wish to return to my correspondence and have you summoned to Lady Beth’s chambers should she allow it.”

Edward nodded and stalked from the room, chewing his lip as he went. He didn’t return to his chambers. The over-decorated room gave him the feeling of being trapped inside a large play chest. No, he couldn’t stand to be within that room longer than what was absolutely necessary.

He ventured instead down the long hall he knew held the room of his betrothed. He rapped lightly, almost tentatively on her door.

“Enter,” came her soft tone.

He opened the door slowly and edged in. Melinda was still wearing only her underdress, and his eyes scanned her form as he made his measured way into a deep bow.

“My lady,” said Edward, attempting to keep the laughter from his voice.

“Lord Edward,” Melinda said. There was a rustling of skirts. His back was starting to ache. “Leave me, girls.” One of her chambermaids hurried from the room; the other whispered in a low tone, but he couldn't make out her words. Melinda huffed impatiently. “Go check on my sister. Her ladies are not so competent as you, Andrea.” There were more skirts rustling and Melinda’s hand appeared before him as the other woman disappeared from the bedchamber. The hand she offered did not hold the signet ring so telling of her position as a lady of the court but was bare. Edward glanced up at her as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. “My lord knows he is not meant to be in my chambers, yes?” She squeezed his hand. “Oh, please stand.”

Edward stood, a smirk etched onto his face. “How are you, my lady?”

Melinda pressed forward, winding her arms around his gaunt frame. She shook her head. They stood very still for a moment, one of his hands smoothing down her hair, the other smoothing slow, steady circles into her back.

“Promise me one thing,” she said. Edward grunted in affirmation, stepping back from her to look down upon her face. “When we are married, cease calling me that.”

“Of course, my lady,” he said, reaching one hand up to trail down her cheek, “but until that day-”

“Which is only two weeks away,” she reminded him.

“Two weeks in my castle,” he goaded. Melinda smiled and pressed her cheek into his hand. “With me around every corner.”

“Ah yes,” she chuckled, closing her eyes against the cloying smile that threatened to overtake her. “Two weeks of watching you try secretly to sneak my ladies from my chamber to yours.”

“My lady has me wrong,” he frowned, hand moving to grip behind her neck. “I am loyal only to you.”

Melinda reached one hand up and pulled his arm gently from her. “Loyalty has nothing to do with it, my lord.” She opened her eyes finally to search his face. It was impassive, though it edged towards teasing and she sighed.

“Melinda,” he lamented, sliding his hand down her face and to her collarbone.

She stepped back and bowed her head. “You ought not to be here, Edward. I shall see you in only two hours' time.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, then glanced at the bed, covered in the scarves she was meant to choose from.

“You might think to not be so formal with me. We were friends first, were we not?” He asked, stepping closer. His hands went to grip her waist.

Melinda pursed her lips and scowled at him. She set her hands gently on his wrists and pushed them away. “Perhaps we were,” she replied, “in which case you should mind your manners.” She brushed herself off and turned to pick a scarf. “Go on now. I must finish getting ready if we really are meant to be engaged tonight.”

Edward stood looking at her for a time, backed out of the room, bowed, and left. He set off back down the hall, whistling gently, his hands clasped behind his back.

* * *

Melinda was fiddling with the edge of a light blue voile scarf between her fingers when her ladies re-entered the room. “I should not pretend I am comfortable,” she said quietly.

Andrea made to remove the scarf from her before she picked up a boars hairbrush from the bed and began brushing it over Melinda’s gown, removing any stray threads and flattening it. The girl picked up the long overskirt, a dark evergreen, and moved around her front.

“I’m unsure what you mean, milady,” Andrea replied, stooping to wind the skirt and underskirt ties together before gathering a handful of straight pins off the bed. “Would you like me to request that you have a different room?”

“No, this one is quite fine.” She replied and picked up a silk scarf, a pale yellow embossed with blue flowers. She rubbed the material between her fingers while Andrea continued to pin her skirt in place. She turned her attention to Holly, who bowed her head at the severe look on her face. “Will you alert my mother of our readiness, then go see the other girls about changing you into something more appropriate?” Melinda eyed Holly over as the young girl nodded and scurried from the room. “Green will wash her of all color, unfortunately,” she remarked offhandedly.

Andrea stood stooped over, brushing her skirt with the flat of her hands in a vain attempt to get it to fall straight. Melinda offered her the silk scarf, which Andrea draped over her shoulders, tucking it down into the hard line of her kirtle. There was a long silence as the girl picked up her shirt and stepped behind her.

“Milady, please tell me if there is something I can do to or ask for to improve your comfort. I know how you dislike these embellished rooms,” Andrea said softly as Melinda slipped her arms into the shirt. It was a light green, matching the underskirt.

She bit her lip. “It is not the room,” she replied. “I am just... I do not want to be married. I still feel as though I have so much more to do.” Her voice was tight, and she cleared her throat, blinking away the tears that had just started to form. “But perhaps it is not my age. Hmm,” she hummed as Andrea began to work the eyes and hooks together on the front of her garment. “Perhaps it is the man. Why should I marry if not for love?” Melinda tugged at the edges of her sleeves, which fell just past the elbow, and looked at Andrea, who pressed two hands gently into her shoulders and brushed any stray dirt, dust, or debris away.

“Melinda will forgive me, I hope, but…” Andrea adjusted her scarf, “perhaps your station does not permit you to love.”

Melinda smiled sadly at her lady’s words. She reached up and placed one hand against her old friend’s cheek. “I suppose you are correct, as always, Andrea. What would I do without you?” She asked, moving to the vanity to begin pinning up her hair.

“Struggling to dress - or worse,” Andrea paused, watching Melinda with her head tilted to the side, “having Holly try and attempt to dress you.”

They both laughed. “You will have to get married in love for both of us then, Andrea,” Melinda said, looking at her in the mirror. Andrea’s smile faded and she nodded courteously. “Go have the girls help you dress. There is not much time left to prepare oneself for the engagement of a lady.”

The woman wrinkled her nose and shook her head, then curtsied gently and left the room, pausing only to give Melinda one last, firm smile.

Andrea was right, as she always was when she confided in her. She pressed a hand to her forehead, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes again. It would not do her any good to cry now, so soon before a celebration in her honor, but she felt plagued by her apprehension.

It stuck in her throat like the astringent smell of tannin. What she wouldn’t give to be spending the next two weeks in her own bed, in her own home. Though Edward had been her friend all her life, she could not shake the feeling that the love between them was only that: friendly.

Melinda shook herself off and went back to pinning up her hair. She had to get through these next two weeks, and after that, through the life of being a lady of a house.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle in Rocksoria was a long way from James Clancy’s home, which rested in the heart of Calyptica, just outside the bustling capital that housed the nobility. Even as his carriage rounded the wide corner of this sheltered, tree-lined roadway, and trundled onto the pebbled entry, Jim was struck at the unfamiliarity of it all.

Though his name was spoken over much of Calyptica and his art was housed in some of the finest galleries, homes, and archives, he felt his portraits by no means a masterstroke - certainly not good enough for the woman who would one day become queen. Jim’s hands shook as he approached the lord’s estate.

The castle was small - much smaller than Jim had expected, and appeared more as a manor house than that of a lord. Still, its wide windows and the two-story building had a certain grandiosity that he couldn’t deny. He wished he had never agreed to this; but then, how could he say no to the lady of Calyptica’s fiance?

A light breeze shook the leaves of the tall apple trees in the huge front garden as his carriage came to a halt. Jim took a deep breath and exited the cart. He had to stoop immediately into a low bow as the door shut behind him, surprise knocking the wind from him: His Lord Edward James stood before him, just beside the cart, hands clasped behind his back. A chuckle exited the young man, and Jim had to resist raising his eyes.

“Please stand,” said the man lightly. He was tall and thin, with a strong jaw. “Thank you for attending us at such short notice. My usual painter has fallen ill, I heard.” Jim nodded in response, a noncommittal action, and the lord swung an arm, indicating him to follow; he fell in step just behind Edward, hands grasped behind his back as the Lord’s were.

“It is not a concern,” he replied after a moment. “It will be an honor to paint your lordship and Lady Melinda.”

Edward glanced back, a smirk playing at his lips. “Were you not informed?” he asked, side-stepping in through the door to get a better look at his reaction. “You will only be painting Lady Melinda. It is a tradition for all the women to have a portrait done before they are to be married,” he paused. “Calms the nerves.”

“It could take me the whole two weeks leading to your ceremony, my lord,” James remarked. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, which accelerated further at the idea of being alone with the future queen.

“Oh, we are all aware. I just hope it to be relaxing for my betrothed,” replied the lord quietly. Edward stopped himself from saying anything more and grimaced. “Well, in any case, you will start tomorrow; tonight is our celebration.” Both men smiled at each other, and Jim looked around as they set off down the hall.

Rocksoria castle was splendiferous in its decorations; vast tapestries adorned the wide, long corridors, while sweeping, multicolored carpets covered the cold, stone floors. His eyes scanned the portraits that graced the entryway, recognizing the style of a few. His heart thrummed nervously - if this was the standard of the portraits of past Lords of Rocksoria, what of the future Lady of Calyptica?

Lord Edward led him up a long flight of stairs into another wide corridor with doors dotting every few paces. “Your room,” began the lord, walking the distance to open the first door on the left, “has the widest and tallest windows on this floor, and looks out into the garden. I assumed,” he paused as he waited for him to enter the room. Tall and wide the windows were, spanning almost the length of the room with their breadth. He took another deep breath in shock and pleasure. “I assumed,” began the Lord again, a smile on his face as Jim turned to look at him, “you would need as much light as possible, to do the lady justice.”

Jim nodded and glanced around the room again. “Thank you,” he said. “It will be more than enough, I am sure.”

The Lord dipped his head in a shallow bow and cleared his throat. “I’ll have my squire inform you when the festivities are set to commence,” Lord Edward said, “it should not be long now. And he should be along any moment with your bags.” Jim gave him a smile, unsure of what else to say. “And also, all canvas, paints and brushes will be provided for you.”

“Your Lordship’s accommodations are a kindness,” he said.

The lord nodded once more, then turned on his heel and, without so much as a goodbye, left. Jim pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d arrived after the royal party - after all the trumpeting and the parade of women and people that he knew would have arrived en masse. Still, he felt a wide tiredness and moved around the room, looking at all the things.

A few chairs and a long, lounging couch took up the near corner, where the most light streamed in from the widest set of windows. A bed was set behind a long, ornate screen; it was wide, but modestly made. He sat in one of the chairs and stared around the room, wondering how he would have Lady Melinda sit. Nervousness sat hot in his stomach, but he pushed it away and settled on the bed.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Jim called.

A young man entered, hefting along his painter's gear and his small traveling trunk. Even if he looked as though he may not be able to handle carrying such a large trunk on his own, his figure held out as he set it down.

“If there’s anything else I can do for you, my lord, then you only need to ask,” he bowed to Jim— still something he was unsure if he would ever be used to— and began to back out of the room.

“Just call me Jim. I’m not a lord,” he said, calling out to the boy.

“Of course, Jim.” The boy glanced back. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Would you like to share a glass of wine?” He asked, walking over to where there was a flagon resting on top of a desk alongside the far wall of his chambers.

“I would be happy to,” the boy crossed over to where he was and accepted a half-filled glass eagerly, smiling happily.

* * *

Edward jumped at the knock on his door, and bristled. “Enter,” he said stiffly, standing from his desk, where he wrote with shaking hands in a small journal.

The Archbishop entered, his hands clutched behind his back. “Lady Beth has conceded to see you,” said the old man sharply. “Given your insistence, I think it’s best if I escort you to her chambers now.” Edward looked around and then nodded, and followed the bishop down the hall and up a flight of stairs. “You have ten minutes.”

He walked into the room, practically bowing before his body was fully across the threshold. The older woman sat in a high back chair facing away from the windows, and looked down at him with annoyance in her features.

“Stand,” Lady Beth said brusquely. “You seek council, Lord Edward, so be it.”

Edward stood in front of the woman, head bowed for another moment. He eyed the women to her left and right, and cleared his throat. “I wish to marry your daughter this evening,” Edward said, his voice was stiff and stern, and Lady Beth looked surprised at the demand.

“No,” she replied coolly, “that was not the arrangement made.”

“The arrangement,” Edward interjected, trying to keep the ice from his voice, “was that Melinda wait to marry until she is eighteen. She is twenty tonight - I do not see why we cannot be married now.”

“Because,” the woman answered, “that is not her wish.”

“And what of my wishes, Lady Beth?” Edward demanded. “She was promised to me, do you intend to follow through?”

“What of them?” Beth shot back.

Edward could tell she was beginning to lose her temper with him. “Do I not have some say in my affairs?” He asked. “Some pull? Leeway? I am marrying the future Lady of Calyptica.”

“Marrying my daughter does not make you Lord of Calyptica just yet.” Beth muttered. “That is never how this has worked. She will hold more power than you by birthright.”

“Well, what does that make me then?” He asked.

“Her husband,” Beth said. She seemed amused by his misunderstanding. He bit the inside of his lip. “Just as my husband before you, and my mother’s before mine. If you wish to end a ten-year engagement, Lord Edward, be my guest,” the woman paused, then stood and moved towards him. Her grey dress, high-collared and austere, lengthened her, making him feel small beneath her gaze. “But remember that the position as Lord of Rocksoria is in part a favor, from my husband to your father.” The queens expression turned simpering. “You do not understand what it is, to fight for the respect of those beneath you.”

“My lady,” he backtracked, “I did not mean to cause you to think—”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Edward.” The woman turned her back on him, heading back to her throne-like chair. “It is, as you say, the future Lady of Calytica you’re marrying. Have you considered asking my daughter for the advancement of the date?”

“I thought I could expedite the process if I came to you first,” he said cooly.

“You were wrong,” Beth replied as she sat. “If that is quite all?”

“One final question, my lady,” he said. The woman inclined her head, indicating for him to speak. “What do you mean by me being only the husband to Melinda,” he paused, trying to select his words carefully, “I advance none in station or rank by any means?”

The woman frowned, then smirked at him. “Do you know nothing of the monarchy, my lord?” Edward’s face remained impassive as stone, waiting for her to reply. “You are not the sovereign of our nation, but that does not make you disposable.” She laughed. “On the contrary, Lord Edward, Lord Consort is a valuable title which I’m sure many a man would trade an arm, leg, or mind for.”

Edward considered her words for a moment before speaking. “You have been most gracious to allow me audience, my lady,” he said with a bow. “I will you later tonight at the festivities.”

He continued to chew his lip as he backed out of the room, turning only to push open the door. There was anger in his face, but he swallowed it down. It would not do to lose his temper, on tonight of all nights.

* * *

Melinda sat in front of her mother, allowing Beth’s nimble fingers to form a crown of braids in her long, dark hair. She hummed a soft tune while she does so, and then pushed a pin through the tail end, holding it in place. Beth tapped her shoulder, indicating she could rise, but she stayed in her position at her mother’s feet, mind rolling over and over in contemplation.

Her mother sighed and set a hand gently on her shoulder. “What is it, my love?” Beth asked, voice low and sweet.

Melinda shook her head and glanced at her mother. The older woman’s face reflected more of Katherine back than herself, of which she was grateful: the reminder of her sister always lessened her anger towards her mother, no matter how strong or unquenchable it seemed to be.

Melinda shook her head. “I was thinking,” she said slowly, “what if we had the wedding at home?”

“What if we did?” said her mother slyly, a smile curled around the edges of her mouth. “Do you want to?”

Melinda shrugged. “I was thinking, maybe it would comfort me to be at home, in the castle, and not have to travel again until our trip in the fall.” She squinted at the corner of the room, looking at nothing but trying not to hold her breath.

Hope, she knew, was a foolish endeavor.

“Then we shall hold the wedding at home.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder tightly, bony fingers digging into the soft flesh below her collarbone. “You can announce it this evening.”

Melinda stood and her mother smiled at her, then held out her arms for a hug - rare, but in this moment, well appreciated by her. “I love you, mama,” she whispered into her mother’s ear. 

Beth’s hand came up to stroke the back of her head, and she released her, bestowing a smile on her. “And I, you, Melinda.” Her mother patted her hands. “Go, fetch your sister and we can all walk to the ballroom together.”

She curtsied low and left, a spring in her step that hadn’t been there when she entered.

* * *

The ballroom was full of people, all far above James’ station. He couldn’t reconcile the idea of his presence with theirs, let alone the fact that he stood by the wall, a silver goblet in his hand, watching a dance he knew none of the steps to. He should have prepared better; even with one weeks notice, he was not necessarily poor, and had been invited on occasion to festivities that would have taught him some steps to the outrageous choreography set before him.

Instead, he had moaned to those in his close circle of friends about the idea of being trapped in a castle, dealing with royalty and nobility, while they at home had the luxury of the common folk. He should be more grateful, he knew, for the opportunity to paint the Lady of Calyptica was as nothing he’d yet done compared. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the dais upon which the lady Melinda and her small group of courtiers were stationed.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he jumped. “Sam!” he said, accepting a hug from the haggard-looking man.

Sam smiled kindly at Jim. “Jim,” he replied.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, incredulous. “I was unaware an old drunk like you was allowed in the courts.”

Sam shook his head and laughed. “The Lady Melinda may know me better as her uncle,” he replied, a smirk lifting at the surprised expression. Jim’s smile fell from his face and he took a long sip of wine, eyes wide. “But you shouldn’t look so shocked, Jim. Godfather is a common title.”

Jim rubbed his chin and laughed nervously. “My lord,” he started, but Sam raised a hand to cut him off.

“None of that now,” Sam laughed. “This Earl of Calypstica prefers the quiet life in the city by far over those you see in this castle.” He nudged him with his elbow. “I couldn’t miss my nieces engagement, however.” His tone was bitter. Sam gestured to those standing on the platform with Melinda. “She is beautiful, wouldn't you say?”

Jim chanced a glance; Melinda’s dark hair shone from the torches set around the room, almost mahogany in its coloring, and laced together in an intricate crown on her head.

Her face, though currently bored and expressionless, was softly defined, though her warm honey skin tone and straight, sharp nose gave her a surveying quality, as though silently judging. As he watched, she leaned her head to one side, listening to something another girl was saying, and a smile cut across the strictly tamed features, wild and uninhibited as she laughed.

“That she is, my lord,” Jim conceded with a short laugh and a sigh.

Sam chuckled. “Too bad she’s marrying that lank of a boy, Lord Edward,” the older man glanced at him, who shook his head.

“You really are something,” he said, then smirked and continued to watch the dancers with an amused air.

* * *

Melinda scanned the room disinterestedly, feeling bored. She’d yet to dance — not that she was particularly any good - and felt underwhelmed by everything around her. Andrea’s words from earlier still tickled the back of her mind: perhaps women of your station do not marry for love, but for honor, loyalty, and sacrifice.  The thought depressed her deeply, but she dismissed it, carrying her eyes across the ballroom floor to the walls, where several single men stood waiting for the dance to end.

Her eyes fell on her uncle and a face that was handsome, yet foreign to her.  She cleared her throat. “Andrea,” she whispered and t he girl stepped to her side at once, her pale green dress rustling. Andrea tipped her head towards Melinda, listening for a question. “You see that man beside my uncle?”

“Yes, my lady,” replied Andrea, glancing in that direction.

“Who is that?” She searched his face once more, trying to remember if she could have seen him before. "Do you know him?"

“That’s James Clancy,” Andrea whispered. “He’s here to paint your formal wedding portrait by these two weeks end. He has quite the repetiteur in Calpystica, mostly landscapes though.” Melinda shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Do you recognize him?”

“I do, but I can’t seem to place where. Maybe I just mistook him for someone else.” Melinda chewed the inside of her lip, then glanced to Edward, who was flirting unabashedly with Holly. She raised one eyebrow and let out a short huff. “Remind me to put Holly in with my mother’s ladies tonight,” she commented off-handedly.

Andrea glanced over at Edward and Holly and shook her head. “Yes, my lady,” Andrea said with a slight bow of her head before she curtsied and moved away again. “I will make the arrangements.”

Melinda continued to watch Edward with apprehension. She couldn't believe the audacity he had to shamelessly flirt with one of her ladies at their engagement feast. It was stuck in her mind until her sister moved to stand beside her.

“Melinda,” Katherine said under her breath, “I would like to go down and join the dancers, would you like to come with me?”

Melinda held back a grin and nodded. “Perhaps we should ask our uncle to dance,” she said lightly.

“Well, I was thinking of asking Ned to dance,” her sister blushed.

“The squire?” She asked.

Katherine nodded and gripped her wrist as they descended from the dias. “But another time or maybe later on,” her sister said softly. “Uncle Sam will be happy to see us. It's been so long since he last visited.”

They walked together to where their Uncle Sam spoke animatedly with the mystery man, and her sister curtsied gracefully in front of him while Melinda merely inclined her head.

“Uncle,” she said, biting back laughter.

“We were wondering if you would do us the honor of a dance,” Katherine said, straining to keep herself from bursting with glee.

“Of course, girls,” Sam said, then frowned theatrically. “But there’s only one of me, and there are two of you.” Melinda watched her uncle glance at the man beside him, who was staring off into the distance. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, clutching his arm. She knew when her uncle was playing games with them, but liked it all the same; he feigned embarrassment for the man’s neglect and waved a hand towards Katherine. “These are my nieces; the Lady Katherine and the Lady Melinda.”

Her sister curtsied as the man bowed, but Melinda forgot herself as his eyes met hers: they were startlingly blue. The glance they shared seemed longer than what was appropriate, and she felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. She watched him lean into a low bow.

Sam cleared his throat, and Melinda gave a small, sudden curtsy in an attempt to hide her blunder. “Girls, this is James Clancy. He lives in the city near my own apartments and is an excellent artist.” Melinda watched her uncle pretend to think. “James, would you like to join us for a dance?”

Jim’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh, no, Sam, I couldn’t-”

“You can,” he said, tugging Jim’s arm as he resisted, “and you will.” Jim stepped forward and whispered into her uncle’s ear quickly. “Well since you have a lack of knowledge, you will have to dance with Lady Melinda. She knows all the steps and is an excellent teacher.” 

Sam moved him so he stood in front of her, eyes wide and lips a thin, firm line. Her uncle chuckled as he took Katherine’s hand and escorted her onto the dance floor, leaving them alone.

“My lady,” said Jim in an undertone. Melinda scratched behind her ear and looked awkwardly around. “I should tell you now. I cannot dance.”

“It’s no matter, Mr. Clancy,” she said and extended a hand; Jim noticed it bore a signet ring of glittering emerald. He placed his goblet on the table beside him and, trembling, took it. “My uncle is correct, I know the steps to all the dances in the court and I am an excellent teacher.” Melinda glanced at him as she leads him onto the dance floor.

There were a few hushed whispers, but it was not unconventional or, she thought, incredibly inappropriate, for her to dance with another courtier at her own birthday. She looked up at the dias, where Edward still sat. The man seemed stiffer now, less at ease, though he still bantered dismissively with another of her ladies.

Melinda held herself a little taller as they reached the dance floor. Jim was right— he could not dance. He seemed to be all feet and no grace, but his awkward stumbling made Melinda laugh, deep and throaty, and as they danced with each other, she watched him intensely. He was a handsome man, with almost delicate features but a strong, powerful build, different than other painters she’d met and sat with.

He glanced at their feet often, and when he did, she noticed his long eyelashes and the fullness of his mouth. Every time she laughed, his lips twitched up at the corners; despite the knowledge that he came close to stepping on her feet many times, she felt - for the first time since arriving - a deep sense of calm contentment.

It will be nice, she thought to herself, to spend time with this man while he painted her. When the music ended, they stepped apart, and a large, gentle hand came to grip her waist. She looked up at Edward.

“It’s time,” he said. “Thank you for entertaining my lady love.” His tone to Jim was polite but sharp as a knife, and she glanced apologetically at the painter.

“Of course,” Jim said. His eyes met Melinda’s and she felt that same flipping of her stomach and heart. “I will send for you in the morning to start your portrait, my lady,” he murmured with a shallow bow.

Melinda inclined her head. “It will be a pleasure, I am sure,” she replied.

Her heart heavy, she turned and allowed Edward to escort her back to the dias. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her; as she looked up at her betrothed, his grey eyes and dark hair shining in the light from the torches hung all around the room, she felt despair at the idea of being married to him. Of having his children and feeling his hands touch her in the ways he wanted to.

Time was moving so slowly as she contemplated her life and the design of it. Would she forever bear the brunt of things she did not want to do? When her father died and her mother was lost to the whims of drink, she took the high road and cared for her sister. When Edward told her they were to be married when she was eighteen, she relented and agreed, putting off the wedding as much as she could these past two years.

When her mother insisted she have her portrait done as a final remembrance of her unwedded life, she consented. But Melinda couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything that was for her.

“My friends and my honored guests,” Edward said loudly, his voice vibrating throughout the room, “we are honored to have you here tonight as our witnesses. I would first like to wish my lady love, Melinda, a very happy twentieth birthday.” Melinda inclined her head as polite applause swept through the room. “As you all know, Melinda and I have been betrothed for a long while,” he continued. “Tonight, I would like to announce our engagement. In two weeks' time, the country shall witness our marriage ceremony.”

Cheers and loud applause echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. A small smile pushed its way onto Melinda’s face. Edward gestured for her to step forward and speak.

“We shall be holding court here until that time,” she said, waiting for the crowds' excitement to wane. “But the wedding shall take place in Calypstica,” her voice quivered with nervous excitement as Edward looked at her, surprised, “a decision made most recently between myself and my mother, the queen.”

Beth inclined her head as more cheers erupted. Melinda glanced around the room and found her uncle’s stern gaze. He nodded softly and leaned to speak in an undertone to Jim. She glanced again at the painter and felt a thread of longing pulling in her chest and stomach.

Two weeks would be a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

As Katherine walked away from the Great Hall, she made her way through the hallways until she was able to walk out into the courtyard. The air outside was fresh and cold, clean with the smelt of evergreen and peat. Her guards were nearby, but not too close that she felt followed.

Katherine had never minded the smell of the stables or nature, and she paused outside, despite how the wind nipped at her arms as she stared up at the stars and the moon. The wind was beginning to get to her and she shuddered as she stood in the center of the courtyard, admiring the stone walls and the rows of different flowers that turned into a maze of different colors.

"You'll freeze, standing out here," someone spoke behind her.

She whipped around, startled, only to see Ned walking toward her. A cloak was in his arms and he draped it around her shoulders with a slight smile, adjusting it on her shoulders.

"Oh, hello," she mumbled, curtsying clumsily under the heavy cloak.

The fur tickled at her cheek and Katherine tried to stop herself from shivering. Her fingers were numb, and she hadn't even realized.

"Did I startle you, milady?" He asked sheepishly, his cheeks tinted pink from the chill in the air as she clutched the cloak tighter around herself.

“No, I don’t startle easily.” She giggled, shaking her eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting to run into you out here.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t you in the hall for the feast?” He asked, stepping slightly closer to her. “I was hoping to steal another dance with you.”

"I stepped outside for a few moments. I needed some air and silence,” she replied softly. “It's begun to get too warm and loud in the hall for my liking.”

“Yes, some folks are rather drunk at this hour,” he chuckled.

“Are you drunk, Ned?” She asked, her eyes sweeping over his red velvet vest and black silk undersleeves that were tight against his muscled forearms, a gilded dagger and scabbard hanging from his sword belt. Her eyes swept back up to his face where she saw his smile and eyes fixated on her.

“Only a little,” he chuckled. “I had my fill of ale with my meal, but that is all. I swear of it.”

She nodded slightly. “I usually only have wine with dinner, but I have tried ale a few times. I didn’t like the taste.”

“Wine is a fine drink for a fine woman,” he said, leaning back against the wall behind him.

They were bathed in the warm glow that spewed through open windows above and she thought that the golden light of the candles made Ned look very handsome.

She felt a pull toward him, despite only having met him this afternoon. The way he looked at her, sprung a fire through her heart and she never wanted to look away from him.

“That’s quite the compliment, Mister Banks,” she blushed, smiling courteously at him. Katherine was very aware of the hardness of his muscled body beneath his clothes, and the smell of him. It's not intolerable or perfumed, he smelled earthy like grass. It's more manly than the likes of anyone she'd been around before at court. "You look at me and I'm not certain if you want to swallow me whole or fall on your sword for me.” She said softly, speaking carefully. "No one has ever looked at me like that before..."

He slowly moved closer to her and she breathed in as his hands came to rest on her waist comfortably. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on,” he said, brushing a stray hair away from her face.

Katherine swallowed deeply as her hands grew clammy. No one had ever said that to her before, especially not a man. "It's not proper of me to say how I feel about you," she whispered. “I’m not even sure how I feel… we only just met.”

She was aware of how close he was to her, and she found herself backing up against the column of stone behind her. It looked as though its a mile high and she felt so small against it.

"I know, but may I kiss you?" he asked, his eyes were watching her lips as she breathed heavily.

She could feel the stone against her back and in the distance the laughter and the soft sound of the harp in the hall. Katherine knew that her guards were in sight, watching carefully, protectively.

It's indecent for her to want him to, especially with eyes on them. But her head was clouded by the sight of him, and she found herself nodding. Ned smiled and leaned forward. She had never been kissed before and did not know what to expect or what it will feel like.

His lips pressed against her own and his breath caught. Suddenly it was as though he was invading her senses and all she was aware of was him. His beard was rough against her cheek, but his lips were soft and warm against her own.

It's slow at first, but she found herself relaxing into it. His hand found purchase against her neck, as his actions grew hungrier. His tongue swiped against her bottom lip and she trembled underneath him. The gentleness of the kiss was taken away as she found herself gripping his shirt.

She realized that she wanted more, that alone was frightening. Katherine pushed against Ned until he takes a step back from her and their kiss comes to an abrupt end. Her chest was heaving, was it desire she felt? Either way, she knew it to be dangerous. She could not allow herself to become consumed by Ned Banks.

"That…" he began, straightening his vest.

"Should not have happened... If anyone had seen us," she whispered, shaking her head. "I hardly even know you."

“Why because I am only a squire?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“Ned, that’s not what I—” She sighed.

“I know what you meant. I bid you goodnight, Lady Katherine,” he said, bowing slightly before walking away from her quickly, leaving her to lean back against the wall sullenly.

* * *

Melinda woke early the next morning, her hands shaking with trepidation at the idea of spending hours in a chair with James Clancy scanning her every movement. She thought he was funny and sweet, and could still feel his hands on her waist, and his fingers intertwined with hers.

There was something about his eyes, and the way his voice sounded that captured her immediately; she had decided to stay guarded. There was no use becoming overly comfortable with someone she would only know for two weeks. She didn’t call for help as she readied herself for dressing; she didn’t need Andrea, or worse, Mary, fussing over her as she worried herself with the details of her painting.

Instead, she washed her face in the low basin beside the door, and patted it dry with the same linen cloth from the night before, then padded to the desk to brush her hair with her boar’s hair bristle brush. She’d leave it down - if he wanted it up, she could call Andrea and have her pin it quickly, which was faster and easier than trying to remove the stays.

She ambled over to the window and threw open the curtains, letting in the bright, white, early morning light. If she’d been able to open them, Melinda was sure she would hear birds chirping outside the paned glass. After a long moment of staring out at the wide, sunken garden, she moved to the wardrobe where she had a variety of dresses. Her farthingales and petticoats, new shifts and stockings were all hung on one side of the cabinet, while her stays, kirtles, sleeves, and scarves all hung on the other side.

She picked out the pieces she could put on herself and noted which color she wanted to wear today, knowing full well that only the sketch would happen, and limited color. She’d seen her mother painted enough times to know that when the time came to apply the final paint layer, the artist would choose the color of the subject's clothing, not the subject themselves.

A deep sigh escaped her as she carried her stay, petticoats, shift, and stockings back to the bed. Farthingales were reserved for the most heinous of occasions, and Melinda refused to wear them otherwise. She stripped, and stepped in front of the mirror on the vanity, inspecting her form. It wasn’t often that she felt the need to be especially critical of her own body, but as she weighed one of her breasts in her hand, she felt inadequate.

She’d never liked that she had heavier breasts, wide hips, and large behind made for difficult and long dress fittings, but never caused her to feel glamorous or comfortable. Sometimes she even wished she hadn’t been given the same hourglass figure her mother blessed her with.

Melinda returned to the bed and gathered her slip off the floor, folding it up and setting it near her pillows. She pulled on a new shift and sat lightly on the edge of the bed to pull her woolen stockings up her legs. She secured them in place with a small, black ribbon just beneath each knee. A soft knock sounded at her door as she was deciding between petticoat and stay. Andrea always knew the order— Melinda sometimes forgot.

“Enter,” Melinda called out, smoothing her hand over the woolen skirt. Her sister slipped in, still dressed in her sleeping clothes, a light-colored, silk robe tied around her waist.

“I thought you would still be in bed,” Katherine said as she tugged her robe more snugly around her slender body.

Melinda shook her head and picked up her stay. “No,” she said in an undertone. “But you could help me,” she pulled the boned garment on and picked up a thin cord from the bed.

She offered it to Katherine, who smiled and stepped towards her, accepting the black string and slipping it through the first loop, so the knot at the end met the inside of the stay. Melinda didn’t really need the stay— a kirtle would do just fine— but the proper dress was the proper dress, and she knew that her mother would be observing her every move in the castle over these two weeks. Her sister threaded the string slowly through, back and forth across her chest, pulling tight only when the thread ran short.

“Are you nervous?” Katherine asked her. “I would be.”

“A bit,” Melinda agreed, and let out a deep breath. “However, James seems to be quiet, so it should be easy.”

“You could always make conversation, sweet sister. That’s always been your best characteristic,” Katherine suggested, though she knew she was tiptoeing over a sensitive subject.

Melinda was shy in a way that didn’t always befit being the Lady of her family, though her little sister understood why. Having strangers constantly flitting in and out of your life, teaching you how to walk, talk, and behave would make anyone nervous about mistakes. While Katherine knew she wasn’t perfect, there was a terrifying air about her older sister that made the younger Gordon sad.

“Perhaps,” Melinda mused. “But perhaps he could just draw me and nothing will be said.”

Katherine laughed a little as she began tightening the string on her stay. Melinda gripped one of the columns on the end of her bed, letting out a little gasp as Katherine’s nimble fingers worked quickly over the cord.

“Mel,” Katherine chided after a moment. “You have to talk to someone eventually.”

“I have you and mother and Andrea, what more should I want?” Melinda bit her lip. “I will have a husband soon as well, and need to learn to speak with no one else until we have children.”

“You’ll be Lady of Calyptica in the future,” Katherine reminded her like she always did.

Melinda pursed her lips and looked away from her sister's piercing stare. “Yes, well, I’m sure by then…” she trailed off. What was she sure of, exactly? That confidence would grow without attempting to speak. She shook her head. “I want nothing less than to have my portrait done. Why must I converse with the painter as well?”

“You didn’t seem to have trouble dancing with him last night,” Katherine said. “He’s also rather handsome. I don’t believe he will be of bad company, shall you entrain the notion of speaking with him again.” She moved to the bed and picked up her red petticoat, handing it to her.

Melinda threw it over her head and shimmied it down her body. “Dancing,” she said, words muffled by the fabric, “is nothing like talking. You shouldn’t say anything... considering I saw how close you were with Mister Banks.” She turned so Katherine could button it in the back.

“I don’t want to speak about him,” Katherine muttered, glaring slightly at her and crossing her arms over her chest. Melinda shrunk beneath the gaze, as though she were the younger one. “Today you don’t have to speak, but you plan to sit in the room for hours at a time saying nothing, possibly for the whole two weeks?” Her sister rolled her eyes at her. “I strongly doubt your resolve, sweet sister. You’re too nice to treat anyone like that.” 

Melinda knew Katherine was right - there was no use fighting it. But still, she felt strongly that not speaking, and especially not making eye contact with James, whose eyes swam with currents she would like to dive into, would be good.

She still felt uneasy about her marriage to Edward, even if he was one of her closest childhood friends. She sat on the bed and patted the blankets beside her; Katherine hopped up and wrapped her skinny arms around her frame.

“I love you very much, Katherine. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Melinda said, kissing the top of her sister’s head. She could feel her sister smile against her.

“I love you too, Melinda. I’ll go get Andrea. Have fun,” Katherine winked, and she left the room, looking both ways before she did.

Melinda could imagine Katherine running on tiptoes back to her own bedroom, stopping only briefly to summon Andrea from the chambermaid’s quarters. Andrea would already be awake, waiting for Katniss to call on her for help.

She crossed back to her wardrobe and pulled out a dark red skirt, weighing it in her hands before replacing it and pulling out a pine-colored skirt. She collected it and the shirt that went with it. She could have finished getting ready on her own, but Andrea’s knock on the door came. It startled her.

“Come in,” she said softly.

Andrea slipped through the door, wearing a light-grey day dress with an apron. She watched her lady step forward, head bowed as was customary, and waited for her to lift her eyes. Instead, she took the silk garments from her and lead her to the bed, saying nothing. Andrea continued to avoid her searching eyes as they stood beside the bed.

“I thought a morning alone before a day occupied may help calm my nerves. But my sister came and, well,” Melinda trailed off as Andrea kneeled with the skirt open for her to step into.

She felt an odd tension as she stepped into the skirt, watching as the girl buttoned it in the back, just above where her petticoat fell. Andrea dressed Melinda silently, and she felt alarmed by her silence; it was very unlike the girl to not attempt in some way to comfort her, especially when she knew her nerves grew strong.

Andrea brushed the dress down with a coarse bristled brush and kept her head bowed. Melinda grew suspicious as Andrea curtsied and made to leave without speaking or being excused.

“I did not excuse you,” Andrea remarked softly before the door opened. She watched the girl pause beside the door and leaned against the bed. “Andrea,” Katniss murmured. “Look at me.”

Andrea turned; her dark eyes were glazed with tears. For a moment, Melinda’s concern for her lady’s well being brought her out of herself. She rushed forward and clutched her hands in hers, which only caused the other woman to cry in earnest. Melinda frowned and moved her hands up to her wrists, noting the shaking of her hands and the flush of her cheeks.

“My lady, I can keep this from you no longer,” Andrea said in an undertone. Melinda scoured her face and stepped back, shocked and alarmed at the guilt she saw there. “I saw something last night… a glimpse of an intimate moment between Holly and Lord Edward.”

Melinda shook her head. “What do you mean, an intimate moment?” She asked.

“They were sharing a kiss, milady,” Andrea sighed. “When I confronted her about it—” 

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Andrea,” Melinda began, her voice thick with tears. She cleared her throat and looked away from her friend, blinking rapidly to try to clear the tears from her eyes. “Please leave me,” she finally choked out. “We can discuss this another day.”

Andrea stood and Melinda looked at her, her face a blank mask of emotion. “My lady, I am so sorry.” her friend nodded again and curtsied low.

Melinda said nothing more, just turned and paced back to her mirror, where she sat and waited patiently for the other woman to leave. Her hands shook as the door closed and she screamed, throwing her hairbrush across the room.

* * *

Melinda knocked on the door to James’ room, a hard resolve set within herself. He threw the door open and smiled genuinely at her. It was unusual for someone to look her in the eyes these days; since she’d turned sixteen, the most common thing she saw was the top of people’s heads, their backs, or their lips as they kissed her ring.

Now, James stepped to the side to let her in and looked back and forth down the hall. When he turned, he seemed confused. “No escort?” he asked, taken aback.

“Do I need one?” Melinda shot back. “I felt no need to be protected.”

James nodded and made a face. “No need. I bring you no harm,” he said with a smile then.

She looked him over; the painter was wearing a simple linen smock which buttoned-down half-way and tied at the neck, which was tucked into dark grey breeches. It was befitting of him, even if he had looked dashing in his nicer pieces the night before.

“Is everything alright?” James asked, trying to catch Melinda’s gaze. “You seem out of sorts, my lady.” Her face flushed red and she nodded but didn’t deign to further answer his question.

“I am fine, just a bit preoccupied. Where would you like me to sit, Mister Clancy?” she asked, looking around the sparsely furnished room.

There was a chair beside the window and a short, round table in front of that. Before the screen, which she was sure hid his bed, a wide table for eating and a few chairs. Facing the window was an easel and a canvas-covered by a long piece of dark linen, and a high stool with no back.

James pointed towards the chair beside the window, then placed a few fingers on her elbow and escorted her over. “Sit comfortably, and please call me Jim.” He said, smiling. “It will take some time, but I want to really see what you look like.”

Melinda frowned at him but nodded. She didn’t understand what she meant, but listened and sat facing him, but felt stiff and awkward and wanted desperately to look out the window. Jim watched her as she fidgeted in her lap and looked down, away from him.

“Look out the window,” he said.

His voice was commandeering, and it stirred something inside of Melinda that she hadn’t ever felt before. She did as he was told, raising one eyebrow as she looked from outside to him.

Jim laughed. “Stay like that for a while, if you will, my lady.” He suggested.

Melinda’s lips turned up at the corner. She’d never met a painter like Jim- his ways were by far the most untraditional she’d seen before. Often, the subject of the portrait she found would be stiff and awkward. Here, she felt comfortable, and it took her mind off the ideas planted there earlier.

“How long have you and Lord Edward been betrothed?” Jim asked as he began his sketch.

Melinda cleared her throat and shot him an annoyed look. She’d thought it would be a quiet day of him drawing. She could hear the scratch of his graphite pen against the rough surface of the canvas. “Nearly ten years,” she murmured, trying not to move. 

The view of the garden was pleasant, albeit boring; activity waned as the rain began to fall patchily from the sky.

“That is quite a long time,” he chuckled, glancing around the painting at her. She seemed to be more beautiful each time he looked at her. “Are you looking forward to the wedding day?”

“Yes,” Melinda replied. Her tone was cool, and Jim took a long breath. “Very excited.”

She was difficult to talk to. He glanced back and forth between her and the portrait; Melinda was still staring out the window, her eyes tracking back and forth between the sky in the distance and those who moved to complete tasks between rainfall. The rain had been falling spottily since early this morning, which Jim was glad for - the bright, white clouds overhead provided a diluted but consistent band of light over her face.

“What do you do when you’re not participating in royal duties?” Jim asked, trying to push the conversation.

Melinda shifted uncomfortably and glanced at him, her eyes narrowing in distrust. “I thought you were meant to paint me, Mister Clancy,” she snapped. “Not hold a conversation.”

“I only thought to make you more comfortable,” Jim spluttered, feeling unnerved by her suddenly off-putting attitude. “I am sorry, my lady, if I offended you.”

“Do not pretend to know how to comfort me,” Melinda whispered. “I have had quite an uncomfortable morning. Comforting me should be the least of your concerns. Mister Clancy.”

Jim remained quiet until he couldn’t anymore. “What happened?” he asked after several minutes.

Melinda looked at him and he quailed under the glare she gave him. Terrifying was the least of the words that shot to mind as her eyes scanned his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied with a sneer. She looked back out at the grounds and settled her face on her hand, a few fingers coming to press her lips shut.

James watched her for a moment, and when she went to move he jumped. “Stay like that,” he said, springing into action.

“Like this?” She scoffed a cold laugh that echoed around the stone walls.

“Yes,” Jim’s tone was harsh. “Do not move, my lady.”

Melinda narrowed her eyes at him but remained still, sighing deeply. “I don’t see why I must-”

“If you want me to paint you, then stop talking,” Jim snapped without thinking. Melinda’s face flushed a light pink with embarrassment, and he spoke again, backtracking. “You do not wish to hold conversation anyway, I believe.” Katniss pursed her lips.

“No,” she said, but laughed in any case. “You are very strange, Mister Clancy.”

“I have never painted the nobility before.” Jim’s hand brushed over the canvas, trying to sketch her quickly before her hand or lips grew tired.

“I can tell,” Melinda replied and could feel her face heating up again, even as she promised not to get angry at a novice.

“What does that mean?” He asked, glancing back at her.

“You do not know how to speak to a lady,” Melinda said. She moved her hand slightly and heard him grumble, but didn’t put it back.

“And how should I?” Jim’s questioning tone was cold.

“With respect,” she replied. He scoffed. “Do you not believe the future lady of her house deserves respect?”

Melinda’s lip curled with anger. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen in the painter the night before. Maybe it was the wine and the music, but now all she saw was an insolent man with a large ego.

Jim took a moment to reply and scratched away a little longer at the painting than she would have liked before speaking. “I believe you earn the respect you receive, and you have not earned any with me, my lady.” He spat out her title like venom, and she let her hand drop from her face.

“Speak to me as such again, I beg you.” Melinda had every mind to slap the smug smirk right off his face.

“I’ve gotten you speaking, have I not?” Jim frowned, sitting back and shaking his head at her. “You will just be extending our time together if you are to leave now.” 

Melinda glared and sat once more, staring out the window. Her heart was thumping with anger and she kept her eyes firmly on the garden.

Jim cleared his throat but didn’t speak again for a long while. When he finally did, it was softly and without the same sharp tone as before. “I enjoyed our dance last night.” She ignored him and continued to look out the window. “You’re very good at it - I’ve never been much for dancing.” She focused on his pencil against the paper, the rain hitting the glass as it fell, the woodsy smell of turpentine. Anything but Jim’s soft, low voice and his large, strong hands. “Maybe I would be better at dancing if I went out more—”

Melinda made a high-pitched sound from deep within her throat and stood. “Do you ever stop speaking, Jim Clancy? I was under the impression you were being paid to paint, not paid to speak. Your conversation bores me and I’ve had enough.”

She wanted to throw something again, her anger egged on by the image of Andrea’s tear-stained face, but Jim’s blue eyes followed her as she paced around the canvas and stood in front of him with her arms crossed.

She looked him up and down.

“You are a bad dancer, but fun and comical when you do badly, which makes up for the bruises on my toes.” She stepped back and looked at his shoes. “Your shoes need to be polished and your breeches brushed clean.” Glaring at him, she walked around behind him and brushed her hand over his neck, where his long black hair tickled the collar of his shirt. “You need a haircut and,” she stood on the opposite side of him now and looked closer at his jaw, “to shave.”

“Is that all?” Jim said as he licked the tip of his pencil and went back to sketching gently.

Melinda watched and noted that he’d already defined the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, and the swoop of her hair over part of her face. “N-no,” she said, finally turning back to face him, even though she stole glances every few seconds of the work he was producing. “You are rude and informal and treat me with none of the common courtesy required of a- a- a common man as you are.”

Jim set his pencil down and looked at her. “Is that all I am? A common man?”

“Yes, must I remind you of the difference in our stations again, I will have my betrothed find me a more suitable painter.” Jim crossed his arms over his chest and she mimicked him briefly before letting them drop to her sides, hands in fists. “I will come back tomorrow if you learn how to greet a princess and most of all, a lady.” Melinda huffed and stormed out of Jim’s chambers, slamming the door behind her.

Jim let his head fall back and looked up at the ceiling. “That woman will be the death of me,” he whispered, then turned back to the canvas, gave it a once over, and covered it again with a long piece of dark linen.

Tomorrow he would start over. Tomorrow was another day.


	4. Chapter 4

When Melinda arrived the following day, Jim did as she instructed and greeted her properly at the door. His lips brushed gently against her ring and his thumb moved gingerly across her knuckles. She pulled her hand away and touched him lightly on the shoulder before stepping around him to sit in the same chair as the day before.

Her mood, however, was unchanged.

Jim noticed she was sullen and dower and stared mournfully out the window without glancing at him. While he didn’t attempt to ask the circumstances of her situation this day, he still felt obligated to sit in silence with her until she chose to speak.

After a time, she glanced at him and nodded her head. “I wish you to paint,” Melinda said in her same commanding voice.

“Not yet,” Jim said as he watched her for another long moment before he picked up his graphite pen and continued the sketch from the day before.

The only sound to break the silence between them was the scratch of his pencil on the rough canvas sheet: at some point, Melinda began humming a song similar to that which they had danced to at her birthday celebration. Jim smiled to himself as she closed her eyes and sang under her breath.

When she realized he was listening, however, she cleared her throat and glared at him. “Why did you choose to be an artist?” She asked.

Jim would have thought her curious if the tone had not been as unkind as it was. “My father and I had to travel for a funeral when I was very young,” he said. “There are a great many beautiful paintings in the homes we stayed at. They sparked my interest, you could say.”

“It seems a silly profession,” she whispered; her tone was sour and forbidding.

“Why do you say that, my lady?” He asked, placing emphasis on the moniker.

“Well,” she began, and swallowed hard, glancing from him to the window and back again. “It just seems that the work would be inconsistent. You could never have expected to gain such fame to paint a monarch.”

Jim nodded and gently wiped away at a stray line with his finger. He had captured her face and hair, the beginnings of her fingers and the curve of her wrist, but felt uneasy about the way she sat, stiff and unapproachable. He cleared his throat.

“I worked in my father’s bakery for a long while before this, my lady,” Jim replied. “They helped me,” he stood and walked to her, “with finances and provided me with living quarters. Your posture is-” he cut himself off to kneel in front of her.

She stiffened and recoiled at his touch. “What are you doing?” she asked, drawing her hand away.

“I require a change of your position, my lady,” he said coolly.

Jim extended his hand again and Melinda stood, looking offended. “Do not presume to touch me,” she said, her lip curled in anger and badly disguised disgust. She stepped around him and strode from the room, leaving the door hanging ajar behind her.

His forehead fell against the seat of her chair and he groaned in frustration. After Melinda left, he ate lunch and gave himself an hour to roam the garden, a luxury he felt was well deserved after a frustrating morning with an uncooperative subject.

In the garden, he found Sam sitting on a bench, a book in his lap and a snore in his throat. Jim sat beside him and tapped him gently on the shoulder, then gave him a rough shake when the man didn’t wake up.

Sam started to come to, grunting and growling as he shook himself awake. “Jim!” he said, leaning in close. 

He leaned away as the smell of alcohol washed off of the older man. Jim rolled his eyes; it was not the first time the Earl of Calypstica had drunk more than his belly could handle. The secluded area reminded Jim of the parts of the city where he would often find Sam lounging, trying to wait out the alcohol. However, Jim felt that Lady Beth may frown on her brother being booze-weary while celebrating his niece later on tonight.

It was only then when he heard footsteps approaching and looked over his shoulder to see a young girl approaching. At first he hadn't reckonzised her as Melinda's younger sister Katherine with her hair down loose over her shoulders. She was walking beside a young man, not much older than her, but he knew him. It was the Lord's squire Ned whom occupied the space beside her, his hands clapsed behind him and a smile on his face as he spoke softly with her.

"Mister Clancy, how lovely it is to see you again," Katherine greeted him, curtseying and then resuming her place beside Ned. "And Uncle, you look... awful. Are you sick?"

"Only a bit drunk, sweet niece. Don't worry a hair on your pretty head," Sam slurred as he stumbly stood and Jim threw one of the man's arms over his shoulder and helped him up.

"I apologize for him. He is quite drunk. I was going to bring him inside," he said, chuckling and shaking his head.

Katherine bit back her laughter with a grin and nodded. "As expected of him," she said, glancing back at him and then Ned momentairly. "I wish good luck to you then Mister Clancy. Mister Banks and I will leave you to it then."

He nodded and shared a glance with Ned as they walked past him before he turned back towards Sam. “Let’s get you back to my room where we can wash your face,” he said, “and possibly the rest of you.” He finished the sentence under his breath so that by the time the man had responded to the first part, they’d already surpassed the second.

Once back in his quarters, he thrust the elder man into Melinda’s chair by the window and went to wet the linen cloth he’d been using to dry his face. The water was cool on his skin. He rung the cloth out and got back to Sam. The dark-haired man jumped at the contact and glowered up at Jim.

“What are you trying to do, kid?” he asked harshly, then looked around. “Lord, this place is a mess.” He was right - art supplies littered the short table that sat in front of the chair Sam was in, as well as the larger table which took up most of the room.

Jim’s clothes were laid haphazardly on a chair. He shrugged. “I’m not trying especially hard to impress anyone,” he replied.

“I believe you,” Sam scoffed, batting away his hand and the cool cloth with it. “I’m fine, jus’ leave me alone, boy.”

“You’re drunk, old man, now shush,” Jim said brusquely.

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting him run the linen over his hot, drunken face. “How is your work coming along?” Sam asked.

Jim laid the cloth across the other’s forehead and walked back to the pitcher. He felt the frustration that had bloomed over the two days of work flare up within him again. “She is unagreeable,” he said, pouring water from a pitcher into a small tin cup.

Sam accepted the cup of water and took a long draft when Jim walked back with it. He crooked an eyebrow at him, whose previously well-contained anger exploded out of him. 

“Your niece is- is- she is an infuriating woman, the likes of whom I have never met before in my life.” He muttered angrily. “She asks impertinent questions and rudely, too. Plus, she is quite possibly the worst conversationalist I have ever had the distinct displeasure of meeting. I believed her amiable when we met two nights ago, but I find her presence grating.”

Sam watched as Jim sat hard in his own chair and glared at the half-finished sketch. The old man laughed at the expression on his face. “Melinda, ah, Melinda. She’s got fire in her soul,” Sam said ruefully, “She is painfully shy though. She’s never been much for the spotlight.”

“She is a high-born lady,” Jim scoffed. “How fucking shy can she really get?”

Sam scratched behind his ear and stood. “I want you to understand something, boy,” the old man intoned, his voice a little bitter and terse. Jim swallowed and nodded. “That girl has had a hard upbringing. You may think the monarchy easy and doted upon - but you don’t understand the nobility as well as you may think you do.” He cleared his throat and stepped forward to gently grip Jim’s shoulder, kneeling beside his chair. “When her father died, her mother disappeared, and Melinda was left picking up the scraps. She raised her sister as much as the wetnurse did, and taught her better than any tutor could. Her hand is being forced now.”

“She’s to marry a nobleman, whose worth is greater than most,” Jim drolled, shaking out of Sam’s grip and standing himself; he began pacing his quarters. “I have little sympathy. She had help with her sister as she has help now - she wasn’t alone.”

“Jim, you don’t understand,” Sam said as he moved back to the chair beside the window and watched him walk. “You were raised by a mother and a father, yes?” Jim nodded. “You had two brothers, a roof over your head and food in your belly. Your family wanted you to succeed and encouraged your painting. Correct me if I am wrong.”

“You are not,” he sighed, pausing in his pacing and turning to face Sam, whose own face was lined with concern and if Jim was reading it correctly, sadness.

“Lady Melinda was raised by strangers, as most are. Her mother allowed wet nurses and tutors to raise her daughters, wanting nothing more than to provide for her house’s name. When her father died, and Beth’s spirit faded, Melina was left with the responsibility of providing some sort of maternal care for her little sister.” Jim’s frowned as Sam’s voice grew thick, but the elder man cleared his throat and moved on. “Lord Edward remains unfaithful to my niece, though that is just suspicion, Melinda feels betrayed by his actions. She’s been distraught and no doubt took it out on you in turn.”

Jim felt disgusted by the notion - a nobleman sneaking around behind his betrothed’s back. He would never do such a thing, and especially not to someone as beautiful… He shook away the thought but felt shame well up in him all the same at his attitude toward Melinda.

“It’s true her social skills leave something to be desired, but the last common person she spoke with was her father, and that was many years ago. Granted,” Sam chuckled, “he fit into the nobility better than some.” Sam watched as his eyes lit up in surprise.

“I didn’t know the Lord Consort was a common man,” Jim said, confused. “How was that allowed?”

Sam sighed and frowned. He seemed frustrated and exhausted, but at least soberer. “It was all hushed up to keep my parents from looking too vulnerable.” Sam rolled his eyes. “No monarch has married outside of nobility for years, but Beth was insistent. It was either Tom or she would've abdicated the throne to our cousin. I certainly didn’t want the responsibility and my parents would have none of that,” Sam paused and watched Jim taking the new information in. “She got her way and forever changed the way the monarchy was run. Part of me wonders if Beth wouldn’t allow Melinda or Katherine to marry someone if they fell in love.”

Jim scanned Sam’s face and felt a wave of sadness roll over him, as well as confusion. “Why is she being made to marry a man she does not seem to love, then?” he asked.

Sam shrugged. “My sister gave no explanation. It was Tom’s idea in the first place. Perhaps it is to honor his memory.” The old man shrugged. “I feel Melinda has resigned herself to the idea. She may have had feelings for Lord Edward once, but they are long gone.”

Jim looked out the window at the garden. Something struck him as strange about the idea, but he shook it off. Melinda was fun, he had to admit that, and her laughter had been boisterous and contagious. But to be married off to a man who remains unfaithful with her knowledge; it seemed most unkind. He felt poorly about his words and his outright dismissal of the princess. He glanced at Sam, who was watching him with a gentle expression.

“You were never to know these things,” Sam sighed. “It was not my place to tell you, but I felt you deserved to know at least the history of her attitude. It is not you that is the sole cause of Melinda’s incalculable disquiet, though I expect your unfamiliar presence does nothing to help.”

“I expect that she is very lonely,” she murmured.

“You would likely be correct in that assumption.” Sam sighed and stood, placing the cup of water down on the table in front of him. “She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a wonderful woman.”

Though the older man swayed a little, Jim felt confident in his near sobriety. Giving him a curt nod, Sam side-stepped him and made for the door. “How do I get to know her?” he asked, a little desperately, as Sam’s hand came to grip the handle of the door.

The older man chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “You will find out, I’m sure. You managed to befriend me.” Sam swung the door open and stepped out, leaving Jim alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Melinda sat at her vanity, staring at her pale face in the mirror. She had felt despondent the whole day, her conscience flipping back and forth between her rude language in Jim’s quarters and Andrea’s admittance about Holly and her betrothed from the day before.

She knew it wasn’t Jim’s fault that her fiance would not remain faithful to her, but his voice flared something inside her she couldn’t quite comprehend and didn’t want to fall party to. When he went to touch her, she’d snapped. Of course, she had. Still, his flippant attitude and rude tone stung Melinda when she thought too long on them.

However, there was something in his eyes that reminded her of the morning she’d spent on the coast, with the sea on her skin and in her hair. The air smelled so clean even with the brine of ocean water buzzing in her nose. The cliff was high; as she’d looked down from it, she’d imagined the fall into the icy sea below her, both thrilling and horrifying. She idly wondered if Jim had ever seen the ocean and the blue, dark waters that looked so like his eyes - fierce, intense, and forever.

She shook away the thought as her girls entered with Katherine’s. Her sister slipped onto the bench beside her as Melinda watched Holly from across the room. Part of her wished she hadn’t allowed the woman back into her quarters. The golden-haired women talked and laughed and tried to avoid Melinda’s following eyes. She wondered if the girl knew she was onto her.

“Do you wish to speak on what bothers you, sister?” Katherine asked quietly over the rush of noise that filled her chambers.

Melinda shook her head and continued to watch the room without speaking. She felt the anger of Edward’s betrayal like a whip as she glanced away from the woman he was with, to Katherine and then back again. Something in Holly’s features read guilt and Melinda wanted nothing more than to slap her. She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling this anger and jealousy.

She leaned in close to her sister. “I fear I may have offended the artist,” she whispered, confiding her with some of what puzzled her brain.

Katherine’s lips twitched up at the corners. “I saw him in the garden with our uncle today. He seemed to be in good spirits, despite uncle Sam being drunk,” her sister replied. “It may help if you were to apologize to Mister Clancy. You can be cold to strangers.”

“I am bothered by a matter which is unwise to speak on,” Melinda whispered. “One which could lose me a good friend.”

“Perhaps speaking to this… friend,” Katherine whispered back, watching her with wide, speculative brown eyes, “could help you to process whatever loss you fear you may face.”

Melinda nodded as a knock came at the door. “Come in,” she called and felt relief at the sight of the dinner service.

She moved to the table in the center of the room. Dinner was served to the group, who sat and ate, still abuzz with conversation. Melinda watched Holly the whole time, feeling herself growing more and more unsure of her ability to remain in the woman’s company after.

Her mind was full of the terrible things she wanted to say to her, and her food was tasteless and mealy. The longer she watched the woman, the more she was angered by the betrayal.

* * *

When dinner finished, the girls were dismissed and Katherine shuffled out among them, though not before shooting Melinda a significant look. Andrea was the last of the girls to leave, her arms spread wide to shuttle them from her room.

Melinda cleared her throat before the woman was able to step into the hall, and Andrea paused without looking back. “I want you to get Holly for me,” she said in a low voice. Her tone was dangerous and cold, and she stayed in her seat at the head of the table, watching the woman turn and go to get the girl before closing the door slowly. “You’ve betrayed me. Andrea has told me what you’ve done and now I want to hear it from you.”

Holly kept her eyes on the floor. “My lady-” The girl started, slowly looking up.

Melinda raised a hand as she stood, and the girl fell silent. She could see her trembling, and as she watched, felt a distinct thrill of pity run through her.

They had both been tricked, it seemed, by a man intent on having his cake and eating it too. Her heart softened as she watched the scared girl fidget nervously, knowing that her next words could effectively end the woman’s life in court.

“How long has this been going on?” Melinda asked. “Tell me the truth of it.”

Holly swallowed and her eyes scanned over her face. “Four years, my lady.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

Melinda nodded and her anger split away from her devastation and was able to differentiate between the hurt she felt looking at the girl and that which she felt of her betrothed sleeping with another woman. It was not Holly she was angry with. It was Holly whom she understood.

“Tell me of it,” she said finally as she stepped in front of the mirror. “As you help me dress down for bed.”

Holly sniffed and looked up at her. “You w-what?” The woman stuttered through her tears.

“Tell me what it is to be,” Melinda swallowed hard against tears forming, “intimately and completely. He is my husband-to-be, I ought to know.” She ran a hand up her arm and over her throat, finally bringing it to cup the back of her neck. “I plead with you, do not fault me for my anger yesterday, I cannot get undressed on my own.” The girl started to protest and Melinda spoke up again. “Come, now,” she ordered her sternly, gesturing for her to come closer. “I’ll unpin your hair after, should you wish. Then you may leave to go to bed.”

She watched Holly hesitate then walk to stand behind her. The girl began removing the pins and Melinda’s hair slowly fell from the knot on the back of her head. The girl reached around for her hairbrush.

“Do you love him?” She asked as the girl drew the brush over her long hair, smoothing it out. “Truly?” She stared at the older woman in the mirror.

“I believe so, and I believe Lord Edward loves me,” Holly replied, setting the brush down.

Melinda stepped to the side and pulled Holly forward so she could take down the woman’s hair. She kept her eyes averted. She gathered the pins in her hand and let Holly’s golden hair fall over her face and down her back.

“I can finish in my room, my lady,” Holly said, turning to leave.

She nodded curtly, watching her leave and then relaxed, sighing, feeling a few tears roll down her face. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

* * *

Edward took another long draft of wine and laughed from where he sat on the edge of his bed. His booming guffaw split the otherwise silent room. Ned laughed with him, though the lines of discomfort were clearly etched on his face.

“But what if Lady Melinda is to learn of your relationship, my lord?” Ned pressed delicately, trying not to rouse his defenses. “Holly is one of her ladies.”

“Melinda?” Edward asked and he laughed again. “That woman is so shy and obtuse, it’s a shock she’s even agreed to be married in the first place.” His sharp features were smug. “It has taken us nearly ten years for her to hug or kiss my cheek. She won’t even speak to the painter during these two weeks, though I doubt he is any sort of master conversationalist in the first place.”

“You cannot deny his charm, my lord,” Ned insisted. “Have you had a chance to speak to the man?”

He shook his head. “Not since his arrival here,” Edward took another sip of his wine and stood, wandering to the pitcher of wine on his table and refilling his goblet. “I’m sure a painter of his assurity is used to his subjects fawning over him. It must be quite a shock to receive Melinda in their place.”

Ned laughed uncomfortably. “I have only had positive experiences with the lady, my lord,” he replied. “In fact, I find her to be quite cheerful and kind.”

“And she is... when things are going her way,” he coughed and leaned against the table. He swayed slightly where he stood, obviously past the point of sobriety. “But she is unlike her maids. Her friendship has been a kindness to me… but I fear she may be incapable of the-,” Edward took a significant pause, “more physical side of a relationship. Though I will do my duty on our wedding night whether she wants me to or not.”

“What do you mean, my lord?” Ned asked sarcastically.

Edward shook his head in mock admonishment. “One mustn’t ask presumptive questions without expecting to receive an obscene answer,” he said. “In any case, this painter - do you really think him charming?”

Ned nodded. “I’ve spoken to him several times before this week and we’ve shared ale and wine. He is quite kind, my lord.”

“Am I not kind?” Edward said with a smirk.

“Perhaps,” Ned said, “but not as he is.”

“If you find him so charming, perhaps you would find him a better bedfellow than a whore,” he said sarcastically, chuckling at his own wit.

The squire laughed raucously. “Sacrilege, my lord,” Ned said as he threw his head back. “I have my eyes set out on something better.”

“Hmm, like who? A lady of the court?” He questioned.

“Yes,” Ned replied. “The Lady Katherine.”

“Melinda’s younger sister?” He said and a yawn escaped him. “She’s even worse a maid than Melinda. Though I bet she has a sweetness to her… she is quite beautiful,” he said as his lip curled into a slight sneer and groaned. “Melinda is the finer woman though, but I suppose once we’re married I can sway her on the idea of you marrying her sister. If Katherine agrees, that is.” His tone implied something different, and Ned frowned at him.

“I don’t know what you mean. Do you know a finer woman than either of them?” Ned asked.

Edward gazed into the distance for a long moment, then sighed. “Perhaps not in station or breeding,” he finally said. “All women are a treat to men, especially men who look like us. Melinda is mine, yet she is cold to me in that way.” He took a long sip of his wine as he thought about her. "I will have to see if I can move things along faster... to ease the bridge to our wedding night."

“That they are,” Ned agreed and smiled.

“Have you acted on these thoughts about Lady Katherine?” He asked.

“We shared a kiss,” Ned said, sighing in pleasure. "And have begun to take walks."

Edward gazed at the younger man, jealousy crossing his features for barely a second before it disappeared as soon as it came. “That’s sweet. I cannot wait until I can share that with my betrothed.”

“Then is it not good you are to be married in so short a time?” Ned questioned.

“If it is not obvious, I am distinctly overjoyed to be engaged to Lady Melinda,” he said with a smug grin. “I only wish it were sooner. I have yearned for her to be my wife for a long while, Ned.”

“This I know,” Ned said. “I wish you would give up this other woman. I fear it may impinge upon the already fragile state of the lady.”

Edward gave him a sly smile. “Until Melinda is my wife, I feel no such desire to relinquish that of which I feel is mine.” Edward sighed and nodded, then yawned. He watched his friend finish his goblet of wine and tilted his head. “Maybe you are right, though,” he said softly. “For all my fears of her perceived inabilities, I want nothing less than to hurt her.”

Ned glanced at Edward and then down into his goblet. The young man didn’t know how to respond or react and thought for once it best if he remain silent. He was only a squire after all. “I believe it is time for me to retire to my own bedchamber. I wish to be well-rested and not wine sodden.” Ned rose and inclined his head to him. “Goodnight, my lord.”

“Good night, Ned.” Edward stretched and set his goblet on the table, his mind full of Holly.

He could think of nothing but her milk-white skin and golden hair as they hovered over him, sweat-drenched and expansive, for his hands to wander and take. Holly had whispered of her love for him before slipping out of his quarters this morning, and he rolled the words over and over in his head, feeling through them.

Did he love her in return?

He had thought his love for Melinda, all-consuming, though obviously not enough to satisfy those earthly desires all creatures craved. After Tim left, he stripped off his clothes and thought again of Holly’s golden hair falling over her face as she rutted against him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to change Holly to Melinda, but felt the transition awkward and stilted. He’d never known her like that, and if he was being honest, he’d never wanted to. If it were not for the benefit of having a rich noble father, Edward knew he would not be marrying Lady Melinda at all. But these were unfit thoughts. He would marry her and she would bear him children.

He felt he had already tempted fate enough by tempting Andrea to his bed each night they shared household space. He would not call for her tonight. That would assure Holly of her place within himself. In any case, as Tim said, he was to be married and needed to wean himself from her. Ten days were closer than he could imagine. He could almost taste the new life he saw unfolding before him.

Still, Edward couldn’t shake the words Ned had spoken to him; James did seem the charismatic type, full of energy and complementary nature that an artist so possessed. The long hours would have to be filled with something; Melinda’s resolve was not that strong.

He knew Melinda’s father to be a common hunter when her mother had married him. Could it be possible that Melinda would push against this marriage on the grounds that she had never met enough men to know if it was love?

Edward rolled his eyes at the thought; it sounded like something Ned or Melinda’s uncle Sam would say to scare him into cleaning up his act. Melinda was not foolish enough to end an engagement as long as theirs. It would ruin her reputation.

As he slid under the covers, he felt for the first time since starting his affair with Andrea, a touch of guilt for hurting his closest and oldest friend. While it wouldn’t hurt anyone if Melinda never found out, how would he keep something like that from her for the rest of their lives?

He did love Melinda more than anything, and when he closed his eyes he could see their future.

A happy one, now that he didn’t know.


	5. Chapter 5

The next afternoon, Melinda knocked on Jim’s door. She intended on apologizing to the painter for behavior not entirely directed at him. Even so, the apology felt awkward in her head and she tried to even her breathing before the door opened.  When it did swing open, Jim once again lowered himself into a bow. She rolled her eyes and felt the guilty swoop in her stomach again.

Melinda touched him on the shoulder to bi him to rise. “You do not have to do that, Jim,” she said quietly as he rose. “In fact, I would prefer you not.”

Confusion painted his face. “My lady, I believe it was you who said that I— ”

“I’m aware of what I said,” she replied, a little too sharply. She drew in a long breath but didn’t attempt to move past him. After tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she continued. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior these last two days.”

Jim stared at her curiously, then nodded once and stepped back for her to enter. “If you would be so kind as to step inside, I’ll accept your apology.”

She smiled at him and nodded, stepping over the threshold. Once he closed the door, he came up beside her and turned his ear toward her mockingly. She laughed, the end of it turning into a giggle. “I hope you can accept my apology, Jim. I feel terrible for how I acted towards you. You've only been kind to me.”

“No need to feel sour, my lady,” he said, smiling at her, but without baring his teeth. “I accept your apology.” She then pointed towards the chair she had sat in over the last two days as she stepped over the threshold. “If you would be so kind,” he said, sitting behind the large canvas.

Melinda inclined her head and perched lightly on the edge of her seat.

He glanced at her and sighed. “My lady, I require-”

“I believe my fiance has been unfaithful to me,” Melinda blurted out. She watched the shock register on Jim’s face, who looked unsure how to respond. She plowed ahead. “For four years he’s carried on an affair with my second maid, Holly. I know not how it has escaped my knowledge for—”

“My lady,” he said, interrupting her rambling words as he rose. He approached her slowly as if approaching a wild animal. She allowed him to kneel in front of her and take her hands in his. “How long have you known this?”

“I learned of it two mornings ago,” she whispered. “That’s why I have been acting strangely. I’m sorry to say you got the brunt end of most it.” She stared into Jim’s eyes, fascinated by the blue of them, and the quiet she’d managed to create with him already. Somehow, she felt she could trust him. “But perhaps I suspected before, just not to this extreme.”

“You have my sorrow, my lady,” he whispered. Jim gave her a searching look then brought her knuckles to his lips, whereupon he placed a gentle kiss.

Melinda insides boiled with bitter longing. She extracted her hands and carefully smoothed one over his face, “Call me Melinda,” she whispered. “I would like a distraction,” she said, trying to shift her mood. “Any distraction. Shall you draw and tell me some tale of you?” Melinda bit her lip. “Please?” She mouthed the word, so it came out nearly soundless.

Jim nodded and stood. “Of course. I am happy to oblige,” he said with a wink.

She watched him go, feeling tangled by the swooping in her stomach when she looked back down at the hands he had just kissed.

He settled back down to flip the dark linen over his work, exposing the still nearly bare canvas. “Would you like to know, Melinda?” His lips twitched up at saying her name, and she felt another thrill of longing travel along her spine.

“I would like to know why you paint,” Melinda said with a nod. “This time with genuine curiosity.”

Jim laughed. It was a wild, mischievous laugh, full and intoxicating. “Painting stops time,” he said, picking up his pencil and glancing at her. “You can look at a painting and see one moment forever. Of course, there is always the chance of notoriety or fame, but I would much rather look at something or-” he stuttered to a stop and Melinda glanced at him, catching the blush rising up his face. “Or someone,” he started again, “someone beautiful and worth stopping time for.”

Melinda swallowed and shifted in her seat. There was a pleasant silence in the room while Jim worked.

“I have always admired painting from afar,” she said after some time, her voice a little dreamy.

“Lucky for you, you will have the chance to see my work up close,” he teased.

“I hold no preconceived expectations,” she laughed. “I know not what to expect from you.”

“Good,” he exaggerated a relieved sigh, “I did not want you to think I had hoodwinked my way here.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

He looked at her, watching her to glean more details. Jim sketched the run of her throat down to where her chest was covered by a voile scarf; he traced the line of her arm to her cheek, and the soft curve of her bosom beneath her scarf and stays.

Finally, he answered her question. “I am no stranger to art, Lady Melinda, and so I have often seen portraits far superior to my own. I’ve not travelled in a long while, but I assure you, the painters beyond our borders are far greater than I. However, here, I am the best.” Their eyes met, and Melinda hummed a short note before looking out the window. “Allow me to ask you something?”

She inclined her head. “Ask away,” she said.

“What do you do when you are not acting the role of a lady?” He asked, still sketching the line of her dress.

“I am always in this role,” she commented, and she was surprised to find her tone sour and cold.

“Well, when you have free time. You do get time away from the courts, I assume?” He asked.

Melinda smiled and nodded. “I read often and write to my relatives that do not live in Calypstica. Sometimes my sister and I will take walks in the garden, or else I will ride my horse around the yard. It is dependant on the day and the weather. When the summer comes again, I tend to my garden. I have a rather green thumb and love to get my hands in the dirt.”

Jim raised his eyebrows at her. “Many ladies would never think of putting their hands near anything like that.”

“Oh yes, but I am not your usual lady, Mister Clancy,” she said teasingly.

“Back to Mister Clancy now, hmm?” Jim set his pencil down and stood, stretching. His back was growing tired and there was still something about Melinda that was off. “What is your favorite color, my lady?” He asked as he moved closer to her.

She ruffled her hair while thinking, sweeping it all over one shoulder then back again. “Green,” she said finally, looking up at him. “As the trees, there.” She pointed to the closely forested area just beyond the grounds. She paused, biting her lip, and he tried to memorize her expression when she looked back and smiled at him. “What is yours, Jim?”

“Blue, as the seas and the sky,” he said. Melinda was reminded of his eyes, smiling wider as he crouched before her. “Melinda will have to forgive me, but I require a slight change in your position.”

She eyed him suspiciously then nodded, "Do whatever you must," she said and moved her hands to grip the arms of the chair.

He moved her skirts, arranging the creases and the way it fell; Jim tugged gently at the scarf, pulling it carefully before stuffing it into his pocket. Melinda laughed, covering her mouth as she closed her eyes.  “I've never seen you once before this week, you know,” he said softly as he stood, gathering her hair to let it fall all over one shoulder in a graceful sweep. “Yet, not one story or tale I’d heard of your beauty was enough to prepare to stand before you.”

She looked at him as his fingers brushed over the back of her neck. “Your words are gracious, Jim,” she said as he spent more time than necessary tucking her hair behind her ear and arranging it in the front.

“Before I became a painter,” he said, now just fussing with the edge of her skirt as he crouched down again, “I worked with my father at his printing shop in the city outside of Calyptica, and sometimes we would together deliver special announcements to the castle .” He paused and swallowed. “From all the tales of the servants, I have forever thought your eyes green, princess.”

“They are brown, Mister Clancy,” she corrected, the title slipping out without her meaning to say it. “I mean, Jim.”

They both blushed as he stood. “That color looks far better than green ever would have, Melinda,” he said softly.

* * *

James had taken a keen fondness to the garden Lord Edward’s estate kept and decided to sit in the shade of one of the larger, flowering trees and draw. At first, he sketched simple things, just to practice: a set of darkly narrowed eyes, a pair of hands in prayer, and then without even thinking, he began sketching Melinda’s face.

He had found himself looking at it so much whenever she was around him that he could draw it from memory. She always had a relatively severe look about her, brows pulled in just enough to form a crease; he had made her smile today, though, and found himself tracing the curl of her lips and the raise of her brow instead.

Jim needed something softer to remember her, and these moments with her. He wasn’t even sure where the intensity of his feelings grew from, but they became stronger each time he saw her, even despite the unpleasantness of their first meetings.

His pencil moved over the paper and he thought of the things she had revealed to him today. Her scarf felt as though it was burning a hole in his pocket.

“Mister Clancy,” came a voice to his left.

He looked up and quickly maneuvered his drawing pad from view, then stood. “Lord Edward,” he said, giving the slightly taller man a perfunctory bow. Knowing what he had done to Melinda made him feel a sick, swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight of the lord.

Edward smiled cheerfully at him and tried to see past him to the drawings. “Some light artwork in this pleasant afternoon?” asked the man eagerly.

“Just practicing, my lord,” he said, folding his hands behind his back to hide their angered shaking. “I shouldn’t want my work to be unsatisfactory.”

Edward nodded. “Of course not.” After a long and uncomfortable silence, the man found his voice again. “I hear that Lady Melinda has been troublesome. I fear that your painting may be delayed, and in turn the wedding. It is a week from this Monday, you remember.”

Jim bit back the retort that immediately sprang forth in his mind and smiled. “I’ve found the company of Lady Melinda to be amiable, my lord, if not altogether pleasant. I see no reason for delay of the painting or, in turn, your nuptials.” Lord Edward gave him a curious once-over and tried to look at his drawing again. He side-stepped in front of it. “My lord will have to forgive the privateness of my actions; the practice sketches are meant for no eyes but my own.”

“Of course. My apologies,” Edward replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “So, I have your assurance that the painting should be finished by the Sunday following this?”

“You have it, my lord,” he said coolly. “The painting will be done by then.”

The young lord nodded once more. “Well, enjoy the sun as it wanes.” Edward squinted into the distance. “I fear rain this weekend, which may wash out my brother's plans for a hunt.”

“Terrible news. A hunt is always fun before a wedding,” he replied.

Edward smiled at him again. “Yes. Hopefully, it will not come to pass. Good day, Mister Clancy.”

“And to you, my lord,” he said.

Jim let out a relieved sigh when Edward disappeared around a hedge and sat back down on the bench, feeling disheartened. He knew neither himself or Melinda’s uncle had spread news of her earlier intolerances, and he felt sure he knew who did.  His anger on behalf of Melinda grew, and he picked up his sketchbook. There was no use trying to draw when angry, however, and he strode back into the manor, feeling hot, belligerent, and uncomfortable.

* * *

Melinda yanked her scarf off her neck and balled it up in her fist before she raised it to knock on Jim’s door. He answered without a smile and didn’t wait for her to enter before he strode back to the stool in front of his canvas. She frowned and remained frozen by the door, which hung open in his stead.

There was a sick strong tension surrounding him, and as she opened her mouth to speak, he cleared his throat impatiently and pointed towards the chair. “We should get started right away.”

“Is something wrong?” She finally asked, ignoring his pointing finger and instead of pacing to stand beside him.

His blank features were concerning, and when she placed a hand on his arm, she felt stung when he moved away quickly. “I was reminded of your impending wedding date after our meeting yesterday,” he began, and she squeezed the scarf in her hand at the expression. “Lord Edward wished an assurance the painting would be done by Sunday next.”

She worried the inside of her lip against her teeth. “Will it not?” She asked softly, noting his bitter tone.

“It will not if we keep on the way we have. Never in all my days painting has a sketch taken me four days to complete. Between your attitude at our first meeting and your tardiness yesterday, I fear it will never be finished,” he said, gesturing to the partially finished sketch in front of him.

Melinda nodded once, feeling a blush creep up to her cheek and guilt pool sickly in her chest. “Of course,” she whispered, fingering the edge of her silk scarf. “I do apologize for my inconveniencing you.”

Jim glanced at her, the worry and despair in her face evident even without the apology. He shook his head. “No matter,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her wrist gently. “The painting will be finished; I simply dread the day I no longer have the pleasure of your company.”

“It was not such a pleasure two days ago,” she snorted, trying to ignore the compliment. She swallowed hard and held the scarf out to Jim.

He looked between it and her. “I will end up with your entire scarf collection before we end here, my lady,” he scoffed.

She shrugged one shoulder. “They will be replaced,” she replied, a noncommittal air to her tone. “But further in regards to your concerns on time, I shall speak to my mother if you wish.”

Jim pulled the scarf from between her fingers and admired the craftsmanship, the work that had gone into weaving together the strands of silk and dying them the off-white, eggshell tone he saw before him. “What would you speak of?”

“My wedding,” she explained. “The celebration is still nine days off. We can postpone if you require more time.” She flushed again and looked away. “It will give me time to adjust to his mistakes, as well.”

“Why do you not simply end the courtship?” He asked.

Melinda shrugged and began her slow way to the chair beside the window. “My job as a lady is two-fold,” she said, sitting in the chair. She adjusted her skirts and hair before speaking again, glancing at Jim for approval, who gave it with the softening of his expression. “When my mother dies, I am to take over her duties, and before that, I must be wed and bear an heir for my husband.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Jim ran the silk through his fingers once more before stuffing the scarf into the pocket of his breeches; he picked up his pencil and started work, his strokes light and fast against the canvas.

She looked out at the still mercifully clear sky. It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar tightness in her throat and a few tears rolled down her cheeks undisturbed. She let them fall soundlessly onto her dress, saying nothing, afraid to move to wipe them away. Usually, ultra-vigilant of her surroundings, Jim’s stockinged footsteps padded nearly soundlessly to her, so his hand on her cheek made her jump.

“I am alright,” she whispered, catching his fingers in hers as she reached up to dry her face.

“Then why do I not believe you, Melinda?” Jim asked as he crouched before her. The simple gesture had become routine, yet intimate, and he truly hated himself for wanting the intimacy to remain between them. “Your portrait is meant to be a reflection of you; severe, not miserable.”

She sniffed and gave him a tearful glare. “I believe it was you who wanted to assure Lord Edward of the portraits readiness,” she muttered.

Jim pursed his lips. “More time would not be such a terrible idea, but I am able to work without you here,” he replied. “I have chosen not to, for the sake of perfection, however…” He smoothed his calloused fingers over her hand, keeping his eyes lowered. “Would you mind proposing the idea to your mother?”

Melinda nodded her head but felt unable to speak. Tears she wasn’t expecting welled in her eyes. She tried to clear her throat, only to choke back a sob and have another bubble up from her chest. He felt his legs growing tired from the crouch he sat in before he clutched her hand and pulled her to her feet.

The embrace he gave was surprising but kind and welcomed. Melinda shook with silent tears as she burrowed her face into his neck. “My lady,” he whispered into her hair. “You are worth infinitely more than the tasks you’ve seemingly resigned yourself to.”

He pressed his face into her hair; she smelled of lavender and pine. Brushing the thought of her smell away, he pulled back and let his hands slide down her arms from shoulder to wrist. Melinda’s face was wet with tears, and she looked embarrassed, even ashamed of her outburst. When he tried to catch her eye, she looked away.

“I have known nothing else,” she murmured, pulling away to sit again. “No kindness such as you these few days, and no love as my mother felt for my father before their marriage.” Jim walked back to the canvas as Melinda looked out the window. Her tone was contemplative instead of angered, and she didn’t try to make eye contact with him again. “I know not why my mother was allowed by her mother to marry my father, but I-” she cut herself off, biting her lip and rolling her eyes.

“Melinda, this is perhaps a touch informal, but when I finish here, how would you feel about a stroll with me in the garden? It’s become rather a habit of mine after our time together.” He wasn’t holding his breath - in fact, he knew to be disappointed.

She watched him carefully out of the corner of her eyes before she smiled a secretive grin and inclined her head. “I think I would quite enjoy that. Your company has become a comfort to me.” Jim smiled as he continued to sketch lightly on the fabric surface in front of him. “And of course, you will have more time for the portrait, should you wish it.”

His sly grin emanated into his tone. “I wish it, Melinda.” It was pleasantly warm in the garden, the clear sky giving way to a cool sort of mid-May heat; Jim and Melinda walked side by side through the aisles of flowers and bushes. It was uncommon for her to go anywhere unescorted, especially in the male company, but she felt so comfortable with Jim; she was sure an escort would only spoil it.

They were quiet for a long while, drifting between the flowers and other plants which lined the dirt and pebble walkway. Melinda pointed and named the few flowers she knew as they passed them, appreciating his looks of interest. Often, he would stop just to smell them, tugging her by her fingers when something smelled particularly good or strong.

“Melinda,” Jim said as they rounded the furthest corner of the garden and began their slow return. “I have another question for you.”

“Ask away,” she consented.

“What do you think makes a good ruler?” He knew he was treading a fine line between curiosity and insubordination, so quickly clarified. “It is a question similar to that which I have asked many of my friends.”

Melinda’s eyes roved over him before she breathed deeply and answered. “It depends on the people they serve, but I believe compassion to be the more important aspect of ruling over any amount of people.”  He nodded and silence fell again.  She enjoyed greatly his ability to exist in the quiet; she felt so often bombarded with speech, rarely could she enjoy companionship without holding a conversation. “I lack many of the traits those around me think I should possess to rule, if that is your true question.”

Jim paused and leaned down to smell a light pink rose, his fingers searching blindly for her hand. Delicately, she allowed him to take it, glancing around to ensure their lack of supervision. When he stood to pull her toward the flower, his fingers trailed from her palm to her waist.

Melinda felt a fuzzy sort of heat warm her belly. She leaned into his touch, reveling in the new, unfamiliar sensation. When he leaned in to whisper against the shell of her ear, it was all she could do not to moan.

“I believe you possess a great many more of those traits than you would think of yourself to have,” he whispered.

To hide her reaction, Melinda moved away from his touch and leaned forward, smelling the rose he had. She arched a brow up and glanced at him when the faint smell hit her nose. “Mister Clancy, I believe your sense of smell may be beginning to fade, as this flower is nearly scentless,” she said.

He laughed and pulled her down the next row of flowers with him; neither let go of the others hand until the reached the straightaway leading directly to the manor.

They continued on in silence, mere inches from each other, and she could not help but feel the shift in their relationship. Her heart pounded as she stepped closer to him, so their elbows were brushing as the rounded another corner and stepped into a more private section of the garden.  An iron-wrought bench was guarded against the view of the pathways by two large hedges and shaded from the line of the estate house by a large apple tree a few rows away. 

She sat on the bench and tilted her head to one side, considering the area.  “Melinda?” Jim asked, turning back upon realizing she wasn’t behind him.

Melinda gave him a short, sharp look and then returned her gaze to the tree in front of her. “Once,” she began in a soft undertone as he sat beside her, “when I was very young, I climbed a tree on our country estate and fell.” Melinda laughed humorlessly. “I thought my mother would die of shock when my father carried me inside. I had a bloodied nose and a break in my left wrist. It all healed correctly, but I was never allowed to play like a boy again.” Her eyes trailed along the tree branches, her lips a firm line. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “When my father passed away, I tried to teach my sister Katherine everything he taught me.”

She leaned into Jim slightly, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. The sun hung at a midpoint behind them, warming her back and illuminating the grounds with a soft, golden light. In front of them, storm clouds were slowly rolling in from the northwest, threatening to soak the ground before too long.

Jim didn’t dare to move, allowing Melinda to rest her head on him, reveling in the slow, soft sounds of her breath and, after a time, the feeling of her hand on his. He feared what the feelings brewing in his chest meant, how he longed to stay here with her until the end of time.

He knew there was no going back now, that his dedication to creating a rapport with Melinda had, in some ways, promoted this moment of quiet intimacy. “I feel for your loss, my lady,” he whispered, turning his hand over under hers, so their fingers wound together. He looked at the curl of her fingers between his and sighed when she gripped him tighter.

“Have you lost a family member?” She asked, her voice full of concern. She sat up and turned to him without removing her hand from his.

He squeezed her grasping fingers. “My mother died when I was much younger,” he explained without looking at her. “She was sick for much of my youth, which made her unpleasant to be around. When she passed, I feared it was God punishing me for being wicked to her. I know now it was only a matter of time before whatever was ailing her would have ended her life.”

“Still, that must have been-”

“It was expected,” he said, cutting her off with a curt smile. “Not as your father.”

“No,” she whispered and drew her hand away to play with the edge of her shirt. “No, my father’s death was a surprise.”

Jim reached forward and banded his arm around her waist, drawing Melinda in closer than what may have been appropriate. The pleasant feeling of acceptance washed over him when she laid her head against his chest and set her hands neatly on his lap. They stayed as such, hidden from the view of others, quietly appreciating each other's company until the sun had moved significantly lower in the light azure sky.

“I believe,” he said as he moved away from her, “it is time for you to return to whatever tasks you must face.”

Melinda laughed and took his proffered hand; neither released the other until they were back in full view of the estate, and their walk didn’t hasten to beat the setting sun.

All too soon, they met the hallway where they had to part, her room to the left, and his far down the hall to the right. He pulled the scarf she had given him earlier from his pocket and tried to hand it back, his expression insistent.

She merely shook her head and stepped forward before looking behind them both. “Your company has been a Godsend. I look forward to working with you tomorrow,” she said as she pushed the scarf back towards his chest and stepped forward closer.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest, a feeling of desperation coating his tongue and slipping down his throat. Melinda bowed her head then curtsied lightly and, without a second thought, placed a soft, unexpected kiss on the side of his still unshaven face.

She watched his shocked inhale of breath and his eyebrows shot up in surprise before he dipped into a shallow bowl and coughed in surprise. She brushed her fingers over his shoulder, then turned and walked quickly back to her bedroom.

Once within the chamber, she leaned against the door with a smile on her face and a hot blush heating her exposed chest. She knew the risk she was taking, and the possibility of it being a mistake, but felt no want to care.

Her betrothed had never stirred a fire in her, but the one she felt now one she knew would be stoked by the man she could imagine still stood in the hall, all wild-eyed and uncautious. She pressed a hand to her overheated breast and laughed. Maybe she could feel what it was like to love a person before she was required to marry a man she thought she’d never been sure of.


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday passed in a similar fashion to the day before; James’ warm smiles and coaxing words had Melinda talking more of herself than she had to anyone, even her sister, Katherine. She left with a now-familiar feeling of heat on her skin and one less scarf. She wondered absently what Jim did with the scarves she gave him, but decided she didn’t care.

He could be throwing them out with the rest of his rubbish and it wouldn’t matter to her - simply the act of defiance she committed by giving them to him was enough. Her promise to speak with her mother sent ice through her veins, though. Beth scared Melinda in some ways, with her severe and demanding presence. She felt her clutch at perfection was tainted often by her mother’s inability to feel connected to either of her daughters, but especially Melinda.

This didn’t prevent her from walking slowly to her mother’s chambers down the hall from her own, dressed in her nightclothes and wrapped in a soft, silk dressing gown. Although Melinda’s hands shook, she felt confident her mother would understand the trepidation - she had once been betrothed, as well.

It was Beth who had requested the painting in any case, even if she had put Edward up to the task of finding a painter. Melinda raised her fist and hesitantly knocked on the door.

“Enter,” called her mother. Melinda slid through the door, inclining her head briefly to her lady maid Olivia, who quietly curtsied and went back to organizing her mother’s dress for mass the following morning. She shuffled into the room, stopping when her mother cleared her throat loudly. Looking up, she could see Beth peering over the edge of her bible with one eyebrow raised. “Shoes, Melinda.”

“Of course, mama,” she said, and nimbly toed off her shoes, leaving them beside the door. She approached her mother’s bed slowly.

Often, interruptions while reading the bible were not tolerated. She stood at the foot of the bed, her stockinged feet cold without shoes. Beth ran her finger along a line and paused to look at her daughter. Melinda wrapped her robe tighter around herself.

“What is it, child?” her mother asked softly. She was never smiley with Melinda, and tonight was no exception.

“I was wondering perhaps if we could forestall the wedding,” she watched her mother give her a stern look. “For only a week,” she continued quickly. “I promise. The painter does not think the work will be done before we want it to celebrate.”

Beth considered her daughter for a moment; Melinda was an honest girl with little reason to lie. She nodded and gave her a rare smile. “We’ll send word to the council in the morning, and you may inform Lord Edward whensoever you deem fit.” Her mother resumed her reading, but Melinda stood still, and her mother paused once more to look up at her.

The expression on her face made her mother carefully pick up the silk ribbon and place it gently between the thin pages of her book. Beth set it on the nightstand and patted the bed beside her, and Melinda carefully removed her silken robe and climbed beneath her mother’s ornate sheets. Her lip trembled with the effort it took not to cry.

“What is the matter, my love?” Her mother asked.

Melinda shook her head and sniffed against the flow of tears. Her mother smoothed the back of her hand over her cheek. The light touch against her face was enough to push her tears free.

“I am fearful,” she began, “that I will not be happy with Lord Edward. I do not want to marry him, mama.”

“Oh, Melinda,” Beth said, bringing her daughter close as she began to cry in earnest. “My sweet daughter, you should never fear that. Edward is a good man, and I know that he loves you very much. I would not permit you to be married to someone who did not care for you.”

Melinda swallowed back the knowledge she had of his infidelity, knowing it would only bring pain to Holly and herself again. “If I were to tell you I do not love him in return, what would you do?”

“Do you not?” Beth asked softly.

She shrugged and buried her head deeper into her mother’s chest. “I am… I continue to feel uncertain about the union,” she replied quietly. “I know it is for the best, but— I do not feel anything for him. Not in a romantic way.”

“Melinda, may I tell you a story?” Beth pulled away from her daughter, eyes tracking over a face so unlike her own. Melinda nodded and tucked herself under the blankets to listen. “When I met your father I was very young, as you know. But I was betrothed to marry an Earl at the time. However, I did not love him and felt increasing trepidation about the union. But, I felt it was important to keep my parents happy, and with the wedding still some years off, I thought I could work to an understanding with him, and with myself.” She cleared her throat and smiled down at her daughter. “I knew that my station did not always permit the love my parents fell into as they grew older together, but I had always hoped. Meeting your father was in a way a terrible thing because it broke a long-standing promise to my parents, but in many ways changed the way in which I saw the world.” Beth scooted closer to her daughter, and Melinda let herself be soothed by her mother’s rare embrace. “You must be married, Melinda, as I had to be and all other ladies have before us. It is a responsibility not only to our people but to yourself and the line of our family who proceeded and will follow, no matter the name of our line now. I wish you the happiest marriage, my daughter, but feel that I must impress on you how rare a love like that which I felt for your father is. You will be okay, Melinda, I promise you that.”

It didn’t take long for her to be asleep, a small smile on her face as she fell into a dream, where a man with black hair and eyes like the sea loved her, and when she awoke many hours later, still pressed to her mother’s side, she felt a surge of contentment. Perhaps if she could learn of a love like that, she could be happy only experiencing it from afar.

* * *

Mass was the same, boring affair it always was. The archbishop spoke in soft, droning Latin, and Melinda watched from a few pews back as Jim snoozed gently, between her uncle and Ned. Sam prodded him in the ribs as they stood to accept the Eucharist and he jumped up. Katherine slid her hand into hers as they allowed the archbishop to place the cracker on their tongues and pour a small amount of the sacramental wine into their mouths.

As they left, Katherine squeezed her fingers gently. “Mother told me the wedding will be held off until Mister Clancy can finish your portrait, sister. Is that true?” The younger Gordon’s voice was a low murmur, and Katherine glanced around as they exited the small chapel.

“Yes,” Melinda confirmed, inclining her head to a few women as they curtsied while passing. “I think this morn’, a walk in the garden may do us some good.”

“Of course,” her sister nodded in agreement. They walked slowly in that direction, hand in hand with each other as the rest of the castle returned to the quieter portions, where simple works would be done and dinner would be prepared. Katherine looped her arm through hers as she pulled them both outside. “I believe your betrothed may be upset when you tell him.”

“I agree. Lord Edward is not the best at taking bad news,” Melinda muttered.

Her sister nodded as they began to walk down the nearest row of flowers, bushes, and trees. They sat on a short bench, arms still looped together. Katherine laid her head on her shoulder. “Do you believe in love?”

Melinda took a long moment to answer, her free hand roaming through her sister’s loose hair. “I believe that many can and have felt the emotion in question, and I believe that I love you.” She explained.

Katherine nodded and silence fell, sweet and amiable, and Melinda relished the quiet moment. As full as she was of anger, of bitter hatred for the betrayal she felt, she also felt at peace with the situation. With another week to satiate her overwhelming need for Jim’s company, her feelings, she knew, would grow back to normal and eventually an understanding of her relationship with Edward would be reached. Be it within herself or out, it didn’t truly matter.

A footman stooped slightly in front of her, bowing respectively. “My Lady, Lord Edward has requested an audience with you. As the hunt has been postponed until next Sunday, he feels some time spent together could be appropriate, in proper company.”

Melinda nodded and pressed gently against her sister’s arm, the pressure a small gesture of love. “Inform his Lordship I would be happy, more than happy to meet with him in my mother's chambers in one quarter of an hour from now,” she replied stiffly.

The footman nodded and glanced between the sisters and where they sat before scurrying away.

“Now seems to be as best a time as any for you to tell Lord Edward of your postponement of the wedding ceremony,” Katherine murmured as they rose.

Footsteps found their way to Melinda and they strode toward the castle, light and yet determined. Thunder clapped in the distance and they could hear the rain in the distance.

“Indeed it does, sister,” she replied, smiling lightly.

* * *

Melinda watched as Edward rose from his almost irreverent bow. From the look on his face, she could tell he didn’t like or agree with her decision to meet in their mother’s chambers. Beth sat opposite the door, speaking in hushed tones to her lady, Olivia. Her little sister sat beside them, while she stood by the long window, staring longingly out at the rain-drenched garden.

Until Edward cleared his throat, and she glanced over her shoulder. “My lord,” Melinda said, turning back. She gestured for him to stand beside her.

Edward’s footfalls were nearly imperceptible, but their mother still cleared her throat and looked up. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” her mother spoke, stopping Edward in his tracks. “Your shoes must come off if you plan on spending any time in this room.”

The lord grumbled but stooped and began unlacing his shoes. Eventually, he joined Melinda by the window, leaning against the opposite side of the frame.

“My lord,” she repeated, her hand searching for his blindly.

He clutched it in his own large one, eyes tracing the lines of her face. “My lady,” he replied, a small smile sneaking onto his face. “Your company is well met on a dreary day like this.”

“As is yours,” Melinda breathed in deeply and watched as the rain turned its tracks with the wind. The clouds swirled darkly overhead, bolts of white lightning crackling across the looming expanse. “My mother and I have agreed to push the wedding back until the portrait is done, perhaps an additional week.”

The lord’s upper lip stiffened at the comment, but he nodded. “I see.”

“We want the portrait finished before the wedding, my mother and I,” she repeated firmly, nodding curtly.

“Is that right?” Edward’s fingers squeezed hers, and she could almost feel the discomfort emanating from him as she tried to yank her hand away.

“It is, my lord,” Melinda carefully extricated her hand from his, then turned to face him, taking in the curl of his lip and the hardness behind his eyes. “I hope you are not too upset. I know you were looking forward to the ceremony, but my promise to you is it will happen sooner than later, of course. We need not wait longer than necessary.”

“I am not happy with this, Melinda...” Edward trailed off and glanced at their mother, whose eyes flickered to where they stood off to the side. “But of course, your mother’s wishes are the priority.” He smiled and looked back at her. “And yours, my lady.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I would like to spend some time with you in the coming week, should you and your mother approve.”

“We may,” she replied. “I am disappointed about the rain today. I was so looking forward to an opportunity to be in your company outside.”

“Of course, the men are missing the hunt.” Edward sighed.

“I suspect Ned is elated to have the private day to his own accord now,” she replied teasingly.

“Oh, quite. I heard he is fond of your little sister,” the lord laughed.

Even through her frustration, with Edward, there was an easiness, something that had always been there, and it comforted her. It reminded Melinda of their closeness since her father’s death. She canted her head to look at him, seeing something soften behind his eye’s grey façade. Melinda leaned forward, wrapping her skinny arms around his lean frame.

He sighed in contentment and pulled her closer, arms sealing her firmly against him. “I do love you, Melinda,” Edward whispered against her ear. He breathed in the smell of her, simultaneously woodsy and soft, possibly floral. To Edward, she had always smelled good, the same her whole life. A reminder of their childhoods, climbing trees and picking wildflowers in the gardens or nearby woods. “Please remember this, in these weeks, that no matter the situation between us, I do truly love you.”

She nodded and nuzzled further into his chest, wishing things were different between them, that he was faithful and that their marriage was natural, not forced. She wished she could love him, but she didn't know how or where to start. She never had any romantic feelings for him.

“We must prepare for dinner, my lord,” Melinda whispered without releasing him.

Edward nodded and laughed as her grip tightened. He slowly pushed her by her shoulders, trying to move her gently. She whined a little at the lost contact and shifted away, looking back out the window.

“I shall see you soon, then, my lady,” he said.

They shared another small smile with each other and Edward departed, gathering his shoes from where he left them on the hard, cold wooden floor.

* * *

Edward didn’t - he couldn’t understand why the wedding was being postponed. As contradictory as he knew his actions had been in the past, between his infatuation of Holly and his carousing and cavorting, he truly, truly loved Melinda with all there was within him.

It was simply difficult.

He’d never had a marriage or relationship he could look up to; something that was so great and true, he would base his whole existence upon it. His father, dead, was someone his mother wouldn’t speak on after he turned ten, and this knowledge pressed itself upon Edward at every opportunity. So he couldn’t understand why, for a portrait, his life, his world, his everything was being put on pause.

Until he saw the way she looked at him.

Edward knew Melinda tried very hard to keep the emotion off her face when the painter walked into the hall for dinner. He knew when the elusive smile, so commonly reserved for him or even her little sister, but it painted her features like ink in water.

It was an unpredictable thing, like him falling for and being with Holly. But it still stopped him cold. It was impossible, was it not? That Melinda could feel a thing for a man she barely knew, this James Clancy of all men when she held him at arm's length for so long? But he could sense the shift, the tension, the unresolved affection, and when he went to bed that night, Edward was hungry for something other than food.

But he wouldn’t call for Holly or go to a whore house. He couldn’t bear the thought of relying on her more than he already did. She had an ironclad grip on him, and as he stripped down to slip beneath his silken covers, all he could imagine was the soft waves of her golden hair, the slick of her sweat-soaked skin, the tight, throaty sounds she eked out as her nails dug into his chest.

It was all too much, and he tossed and turned and refused to give in. It was all too tempting to release his inhibitions and call on that fiercest animal, lust.

However, he resisted, and he turned finally into a fitful sleep, full of dreams of Melinda and, absurdly, the painter; of Holly’s tearstained face across the aisle behind his bride; when he woke, his mood remained unchanged. He was just as confused, just as upset, just as empty.  As old as this song and dance were between he and Melinda— him pulling her forward just for her to take three or four steps away - he couldn’t help but feel resentful about the change in date. What had he done wrong?

Had Melinda found out about him and Holly— if so, why was it that she was simply changing the date and not ending the marriage, beheading them, banishing Holly to some more desolate part of the country?  He shook his head; he knew why: Melinda was too good - far too good - for any sort of drastic action that would cause those she loved harm. She was also selfish and needed those she loved close. He knew: she couldn’t survive without those closest to her.

Like her father dying, it could break her in two.

While this stirred a deep-seated affection for his oldest, closest friend, he still tasted that bitter sulkiness which clung to the pronouncement. His relationship with Holly— and the betrayal he knew Melinda would feel if she were to ever find out - would not change how he felt for her.  He loved her, and that was that. Right?

The confusion of the situation, the seemingly budding relationship between James and Melinda, between him and Holly, between Melinda and himself, all built inside of him until he was seething, fit to burst. He didn’t know what was going on or where he fits in but felt lost, angry, confused, and most of all, hurt.

He had no right, Edward knew this, because of whatever he saw fit to continue for four long years with Lady Holy, but couldn’t help but express his mood through a poorly aimed kick at his shoes. His toes slammed into the foot of one of his bedposts, and he let out a guttural roar at the paint here. He sat angrily on his bed, seething, his foot pounding. There was no reason to feel as angry as he felt; two weeks couldn’t make any more of a difference than one.

Edward left his quarters after considering his options for the day. He spent a long time wondering how Melinda would feel were she to have the wedding forced back on his account. Elated, more than likely; he felt unsure that she even felt a hint of emotion towards him, anything more than affection for a friend.

It burned inside him like acid to think that way, feeling as he did. Conflicted, he wandered aimlessly, bowing and nodding his head when necessary, until he found himself in front of the quarters belonging to Melinda’s ladies. He hadn’t meant to end up here but knew he was drawn by the possibility of someone who cared for him, who he knew cared for him. Hesitantly, he knocked and waited.

A young, fair-skinned, red-headed woman answered the door, surprise registering on her face before she had a mind to curtsy gently. “My lord, Lady Melinda’s room is across the hall, as I am sure you are well aware,” the woman said.

Melinda’s upper lip curled briefly and he attempted to smile at her. “Of course, but she is with the painter already, is she not?” He asked smoothly.

Someone cleared their throat behind the redhead and she turned. Holly, all fair skin and flowing hair, stood glaring at him, malice coating her delicate features.

“My lord,” Holly said briskly. “It is… inappropriate for you to attend our quarters, is it not?” She bustled over, straightening her shirt lower over her skirts as she went. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the other woman and pushed him out of the doorway, closing the wooden door with a snap behind her. He clutched her wrist and glanced surreptitiously around. “Release me, Edward.”

“I had to see you,” he said between gritted teeth, “I am desperate for a company that cares for me.”

“My lady Melinda cares for you deeply,” she spat, wrenching her hand from his grasp. “We cannot continue this, for risk of either of anyone discovering our salacious acts.”

“Holly,” he whined, reaching towards her waist. “I want-"

“The postponement of your marriage is most unfortunate, my lord, but cannot change my wishes.” Holly’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced away. A heaviness sat between them, pregnant with their unsaid words. “I fear the consequences of our actions may be permanent if we are to continue in this thread.”

“Speak plainly,” he coughed impatiently.

Holly looked around again and, seeing the hall was empty, dragged him by the elbow to Melinda’s empty chambers. Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she stepped away and crossed her arms over her chest, emanating waves of hurt and anger.

“My lord is aware of who I am related to?” She asked, looking bitterly away. An errant tear fell from her eye, and she swiped at it, missing nearly entirely.

“I believe I am,” Edward said, stepping forward with precise caution as if trying not to spook a wild animal.

“You know, therefore, of the existence of my cousin, and of his paternal parentage?” She asked.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“That my aunt may never see her son’s father, and must live alone, raising him on a pittance wage in Cobbe?” She asked.

“I have this knowledge, my lady,” he muttered. “What does it matter?”

“Confirm you have this information, Edward, before you try to pull me to your bed again.” She muttered.

“I love you,” he confessed.

Holly froze, surprised after his confession. It was obvious to Edward that he had caught her entirely off-guard by his admittance, and he took the opportunity to draw her into his arms and kiss her forehead.

“Lady Melinda and I- our-” He stuttered himself to a stop and took a deep breath, trying desperately to steady himself. “I do love my fiancee, as you know, but there is something about you that controls me so deeply. And I believe I can love you and her at the same time.”

“Edward-”

“Allow me the courtesy of finishing my thoughts, my lady.” Holly bowed her head, leaning her forehead against his chest. “In these four years I have been with and known you, I expected to exclusively be understanding and readying myself for the marriage I will so soon participate in.” Edward paused and tipped her face up. “I wish I could explain the difference in love between the two of you.”

“My lord, please,” she said, backing away from him. “I cannot stand this path of conversation. Each day is agony, to watch and need you, but know that my lady - my longest friend - is to marry you. And she is so nervous that you do not love her, that she will not be happy, and yet here you are, admitting your love for me-”

“I don’t know how else to show my love for her,” he sighed.

“Show her,” Holly said, emphasis on each word as she drew them out of her mouth. “My lord, you are troubled and I understand that, but I cannot continue something that will, in the end, harm us both.”

He shook his head. “My love for the lady, my promise to her father and my father and her, and the promise I have now made to this country; none of these things make me love you any less.”

“You are not establishing a well-founded case for yourself, my lord.” She muttered

“A case is not what I am trying to plead, my lady.” Holly tugged on her and she relented. “Come to my chambers once more, if you must end things now.”

Holly shook her head, looking annoyed. “Once more,” she whispered. “Tonight, after my lady has gone to sleep, I will come. Do not call for me.” She pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed him lightly, resisting when he tried to pull her forward.

* * *

Laughter split the room, loud and full, and as he laughed, Jim moved his hand, lest he placed a wrong stroke of the brush. Melinda’s chuckle followed, low but just as loud.  “You mean to tell me,” he choked out, “when you first met Lord Edward, it was with his—” He made a lewd gesture to her, which made her choke on laughter. “and he was urinating—”

“On my mother’s best roses, yes,” Melinda finished, a smirk furnishing her features. “And I tried to help him before my mother came around the corner. We were already at least four years into our betrothal. I was fourteen and he sixteen.”

“Did your mother catch you together?” He asked.

“With my fingers on his trouser buttons, no less,” she replied with a laugh. “The first time I’d met him in memory and the first thing that happens…” Melinda trailed off and glanced back out the window.

“What was your father like?” He asked, watching as her jaw tightened a little. He worried he’d asked the wrong thing, but she grimaced and tried in vain to smile.

“He was a very good man,” she whispered. “A hunter for my mother’s family before he was able to attain her hand in marriage. He was able to teach me some so that if I were I ever to be lost on my own I could survive. As if my mother would let me out of her sights long enough to do something as silly as that.”

“What did he teach you?” Jim’s tone was light, curious even, but in reality, he was desperate for information he knew he was meant to dig for, that Melinda would never willingly offer up herself.

“Archery, for sport, and how to skin a beast should I require it.” Melinda shrugged. “I spent much, much time with him as a small child. He, uh,” she paused, biting the inside of her lip. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He passed in a hunting accident about six years ago, the details of which I am uncertain. It happened before I was able to ask him… anything.” Melinda’s voice broke and she looked away from him quickly, catching her tears before they were able to fall.

“I…’ He cleared his throat and looked away from her tear-stained face. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It’s alright, Jim,” she waved ambivalently. “Simply a subject about which I find myself overly sensitive.” She gave him a small smile, which dazzled him no less than her toothy, wide grins. “Tell me, instead, of your family.”

“Ah,” he returned to his work with a grimace of his own, filling in a gray background with wide, firm brush strokes. “My family is… complicated.”

“A lady threatening to abdicate for love, complicated?” She teased playfully.

“No,” he scoffed. “Not quite so dire.” He continued in silence for another long moment, and Melinda thought he would avoid the topic completely. “As I told you, my mother was ill for a long time. But, I have two brothers; Daniel and Jacob.”

“And then you?” she asked.

“Mmhmm,” he said and Melinda squinted at him, but nodded and waved for him to continue. “In any case, my mother hoped her whole life for a daughter, and after I was born, my father told me she lost something in herself which was believed untraceable. I became the brunt of her suffering. My wish was always to be the best son, the best help, the best I could possibly be.”

“And so her illness… how did this manifest?” He asked.

“Days in bed, wild tempers, beating me over small infractions imposed by my brothers tattling on me, and a constant stream of muttered dismissals.” He explained solemnly. “All culminating in her death, about ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Melinda said, brow furrowed in concerned.

“It was, as I have said, expected.” He cleared his throat. “She took her own life. Thankfully none of us were home to… Well, in any case, my father has been remarried since then, to a widow named Faith. She has a lovely daughter - her only child - Anna. She married my oldest and dearest friend a few months ago.”

She grinned. “Tell me more of them,” she pleaded.

“Perhaps another time, my lady.” They sat in silence for the rest of the session, until Jim cleared his throat and set his paintbrush down. “Melinda, I wonder if you would answer something that’s been plaguing me these few days.”

“Certainly,” she intoned, casting a worried look at him from where she sat. She leaned forward to pick up a small, crystal glass filled with water and raised it to her lips.

“Why do you insist I keep your scarves?” He asked.

Melinda nearly choked at the question and cleared her throat, looking out the window. Shaking her head like a dog from water, she gestured him to sit beside her, which he did after only a moment or two of protest. “For a long time,” she started lightly, “I was mad at my father for not telling me why I had to be married to a man I thought so… crude. I care for Edward in my own way, but I never saw him fit to assist with my rule or to do any of the things my father did to help my mother. I thought, rather than to make me happy, it was simply to elevate those whom he knew best. I do not know the reason even to this day, but feel such shame thinking these things of my father that it makes me want to scream. I was never given the opportunity to ask.”

“What does this-” She raised her hand to silence Jim, and he shut his mouth at once.

“I find myself growing increasingly enamored by your company, though for reasons still vague and untenable to me. I feel…” Melinda pushed her tongue into the side of her mouth, trying carefully to extricate exactly the words she meant. “I feel most like myself when I am with you. As though I am not expected to be someone I am not.”

“I still don’t see—” He sighed.

“I must be careful with my words, Jim,” she whispered. “But I believe the scarves should be enough to make my feelings plain.” Hesitantly, she reached over to wind her fingers through his paint and dye stained ones, relishing in the rough, tough calluses and silky feeling of linseed oil that clung to each groove and crevice.

He nodded once, and with a stiff smile, squeezed her fingers. “I feel the same, I believe. But-”

“But I must be married to Lord Edward,” she muttered.

“Yes,” he breathed.

The silence that spanned between them this time was uncomfortable until Jim reached up with their joined hands and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, the wet insides of his lips pressing softly against her tender flesh. Melinda had her own calluses from the bow and bridle of her horse, but the contrast between her mildly weathered skin and his scarred and overworked fingers was marked by mildly indecent thoughts. Her chest flushed pink and she retracted her fingers to caress his cheek.

“I require a viewing of your wardrobe, my lady,” he remarked quietly, eyes closed against her sweet touch.

“Come, then. I will have Delia and Andrea help me lay out the clothes.” She said and he bowed and allowed her to lead the way, her hands gathered neatly in front of her swaying skirts and they exited out into the hall.

Jim watched her move and revealed in the mindlessness of her actions, the easy shift of her hips and the light swing of her long, mahogany hair. He knew watching her marry Lord Edward would break him utterly in half, and tried to gather his thoughts logically to a brisk but beautiful woman named Johanna whom his mother wanted him to marry back home. Marriage to her would be timely, even ideal, but the feelings he had welling in his chest for the future lady were heavy and slightly taxing.

Melinda slipped open her door too soon and waved him inside. “I must gather my girls. I will be with you momentarily.” She disappeared as he stepped through the door.

Her room was not at all reflective of whom he knew the woman to be. It was overwrought with adornment, as the rest of the manor was, and had Jim considered what her bedroom at home would look like. Simple, clean with nice enough decorations, nothing too lavish; these were all things he expected Melinda to appreciate.

In a different time, perhaps they would already be in love, married, with children in a simple country cottage. Jim dismissed the silly ideation, focusing instead on the bed. He could smell the familiar, almost woodsy tang of Melinda’s natural musk permeating the air. He trailed his fingers across the downy bedspread, feeling at once peaceful and on edge. How had this secretive woman so effectively captured him?

When the door opened, he jumped and yanked his hand away from her bed, earning a questioning glance from Melinda. She was followed by a small, dark-skinned woman with neatly manicured braids, and a tall, pale woman with freckles, and sharp angular features. He smiled and inclined his head at them both.

The shorter woman waved and both of her ladies stepped towards the wardrobe, whispering quietly to each other.

Melinda’s tone was a hushed whisper when she spoke again. “I did not intend to surprise you.”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “I was merely considering how enraptured with you I have become in these few short days.”

Her face flushed as she glanced away, embarrassed at the compliment. “My lord,” she whispered. “We mustn’t—”

“I felt to make it known, as you have. Less subtly perhaps, but no less true.” He admitted.

She shook her head and pressed her fingers lightly to the inside of his wrist before turning to gesture at a few of the dresses she’d instructed them to lay out for Jim to look at. He  ran his hand across the silken gowns, stopping briefly on her marigold colored party dress and her red evening skirts. He twitched the edge of her pine colored skirt, the one she’d worn on the first day with him and smiles.

“This one, my lady, will do just fine. I'll match the color tomorrow, but I would expect you to wear it more often than you normally would,” he said and winked at her.

“And which scarf, my lord?” asked Delia, laying out a few across her arm.

Jim sucked air through his teeth and gave her a secret smile. “Any will do, my lady,” he said genially to the girl, who nodded and moved to recollect the dresses and stow them carefully back in the wardrobe.

“I look forward to seeing the finished product,” Melinda said. She lowered her voice to continue, “not too soon, however.”

Jim inclined his head and kissed the bare knuckles of her left hand. “I will see you in the morning, my lady.” He said as he took his leave.

Andrea canted her head to look at her, who avoided her gaze. “Shall we set out the dress now, my lady?” the girl asked kindly. “And yours for dinner?”

“No, but you could help me undress for my rest,” she said as she began to unpin her shirt. “And send Holly in when you see her next. I asked for her instead of Delia and she was said to be busy with another. I would like to know who she’s been attending in my stead.” She stood carefully while Andrea and Delia began to undress her; she was certain she knew exactly where, and with whom, Holly had been with.

* * *

It was only when Melinda was beginning to drift into an uneasy rest that three sharp, quiet raps sounded at her door. It swung open just enough to allow Andrea’s slender form to slide softly into the room.

The girl went about her normal afternoon tasks, emptying the ceramic bowl of face and hand water into a shallow basin to be carried out by the maids, setting out some parchment and a fresh well of ink for a letter, renewing the towel for her to dry with. When she’d finished and left the room for a moment, the room was tidier, and Melinda’s chest felt tight in the quiet.

Andrea returned a moment later, clearing her throat softly as she noticed her stir in bed. “My apologies for waking you, my lady, but you have a visitor.”

Melinda watched her draw the curtains shut through half-lidded eyes, uncertain whether or not to believe her. “Who is wanting to see me?” She shifted slightly in her bed to watch her and cleared her throat when Holly did not immediately answer.

“Your sister, my lady. I also went about the castle looking for Lady Holly… I saw her leaving His Lordships chambers this afternoon. I followed her to the kitchen and Miss Grey made a blend of herbs that help stay the possibility that she could… make the same mistake as her aunt.” Andrea whispered.

“So she is still seeing Lord Edward?” She said blithely. It was less of an accusation than a question, as though she found the whole situation amusing instead of exhausting. “Do you know this for certain?”

Andrea shook her head. “No, my lady, not for certain. I only saw her leave Lord Edwards chambers… I do not know what happens behind closed doors.”

Melinda nodded and looked away. It would never last, Edward’s potential to be faithful to her even if Holly had only gone there to end it because it was never what either of them had wanted. Even now, years later, she could see the path they’d woven, slowly moving away from, rather than to each other.

She had loved him, of course, but couldn’t tell if the love she felt for him matched that which she saw written listlessly on Holly’s unsure features the other day. Jim grew in the back of her mind as she considered the question of her love, and she closed her eyes against the idea.

She could not grow too attached to the painter. It was so much easier this way. Arranged; almost anonymous.

“Let my sister in and excuse yourself to get something to eat,” Melinda said as she opened her eyes and searched for her lady, who stood at the end of the bed, fiddling with the scarf she had chosen for her dinner wear.  Andrea smiled as soon as their eyes met, and she suddenly noticed how exhausted the girl looked. The woman nodded and curtsied before she turned to open the door to let Katherine in and to take her leave. "Good day, sweet sister. What brings you by?"

"I only wish to hold your company for some time. I miss you. Why are you resting on as beautiful of a day like today?” Her sister asked, going over to another closed window and opening the curtains to let more light in. "Are you sick?"

“No. I am feeling fine physically, but were I to tell you something possibility incriminating, would you promise to keep my secret?” She said, glancing over at the younger girl.

“Yes, of course,” Katherine said, coming to gingerly sit down on the edge of the bed. The skirt of her blue dress puffed out as she tried to sit comfortably. "You're my sister."

Melinda gestured her over and patted the side she was laying on, turning to face her and make more room for her to come up beside where she was. “I feel slightly muddied in my emotions at this time. The wedding's postponement has only made matters all the worse,” she explained and couldn’t look at her little sister, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “I know not how I’ve landed myself in this situation, but I believe I have developed something of an infatuation for Mister Clancy.”

“I would say I’m surprised, dear sister, but I’m not,” Katherine giggled, shaking her head at her. "Tell me more about the mystery painter. How did you come to feel for him as you do?"

“I have no definite definition for how I have come to feel. It is something between love and interest, but also comfort. I am,” she paused to chew her lip, thinking hard, “well, it does not matter what I am, really, since I will be married in only two weeks.”

“Melinda,” Katherine began conspiratorially, “I know how you feel. My admiration for Mister Banks looks has become much more than that.”

“Has it now?” Melinda laughed slightly, reaching over to hold onto her sister’s hand. "You haven't told me much about him lately."

“Yes, I know. It's been troubling for me to talk about with you because I hardly know how to comprehend how I feel, but one thing I wish could tell myself in those moments we have shared is that you must act,” Katherine replied. “Love is fleeting and so very elusive. Not all can be like our mother and marry whomever they wish.”

“What are you saying?” Melinda whispered, her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt at once uneasy and elevated.

“You will not abdicate, sister, we both know this,” Katherine leaned forward, both her hands on her wrists; she nodded, still a touch confused. “But you need not suffer a loss of love without ever knowing its touch. You cannot break further that trust which is already broken between you and Edward.”

“I’m conflicted… what if someone learns of this? Of my feelings for someone other than the man I am promised to marry.” Tears pricked at her eyes and for a moment, Melinda though she genuinely may cry. Her heart was singing with possibilities. “You must do something for me,” she murmured as she drew away.

“Anything,” Katherine clutched her hands tightly in hers.

“Follow your heart with Ned. He’s a good man,” she told him and the girl opened her mouth to protest, and she squeezed her fingers to silence her. “If you tell our mother of your feelings for him and how he feels for you in return, she’ll see no reason to say no. I will stand by you on this.”

“I do love him, but—” Her little sister looked torn and hopeless for some sort of answer and Melinda reached toward her, comforting her with a single stroke of her fingers down her cheek. “I feel uncertain that I will be enough for him. What if he strays?” Katherine commented, concern framing her features.

“He is not that kind of man. I know him. Trust me,” she whispered with a smile.

* * *

_ Plink. _

_ Plink. _

_ Plink. _

Katherine heard her own terrified gasp just as her eyes popped open and she blinked rapidly in the soft light of the room. The fire in her bedchamber had burned low to embers, but the room was still warm on a spring night.

The muffled tapping that greeted her ears was the very same that had infiltrated her dream, and the sudden realization that the sound was far-too-real only heightened her anxieties about who was outside her window.

Sensing movement, she spotted a shadowy figure through the thick glass window panes that looked out over her balcony and felt her heart leap into her throat. With nothing between herself and the intruder save for panels of easily-shattered glass, Katherine knew that she would have no time to scream for help if this was serious, for by the time aid came she would already have fallen victim any killer worth merit (for certainly anyone who tried to break into a lady’s room was skilled in the art of murder or rape, would they not?) and be well-beyond saving.

She slipped silently toward the door there, having nothing to protect herself she stopped and sucked in a steadying breath, stealing her shoulders for what might follow. Not giving herself a second more to consider the consequences, she swung open the door, but the beaming smile on Ned's face instantly disappeared.

Ned ducked and dodged away from her flying fist, spluttering incoherently and flinging himself up against the stone wall as quickly as possible. "Kat—Katherine, what on earth!"

Relief flooded through her as she let the dagger clatter harmlessly to the balconies' concrete floor. "Ned!" She cried, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's you. I'm so glad it's you!"

It took him a moment to recover as he stared at her, dumbfounded, before bursting into incredulous laughter. "I take it you were expecting someone else?" he teased, letting out a small oof! of surprise as she glared at him.

"I woke up and saw someone through the glass," she explained, laughing herself now that he was here and the final remnants of her horrible anxieties faded like the morning mist with the sunlight of his presence. "I thought perhaps someone had been sent to harm me. You know… most noblemen come to the door.”

A shadow passed over his face as he lifted his hands to lovingly caressed the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulders. "Ah, my lady… I am sorry that I startled you, Katherine. I wasn't thinking clearly. I would never mean to frighten you, but I did not wish to ruin your reputation and thought that climbing to your balcony was the best option."

"And I never meant to almost hit you," she sighed, shaking her head before bringing her arms up to cover herself the best she could. She only just remembered she was in her nightgown. "But forgive me… I'm not exactly dressed for your company, Mister Banks."

His eyes dropped to where her hands covered and she noticed his cheeks blushed the same as hers did. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," she said, reassuring him as their eyes meet. "You could never make me uncomfortable, Ned." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "What brings you by my chambers at this hour, Ned?" she asked, anxious to change the subject now. "Is something wrong?"

She felt his cheeks move as he smiled. Then he took her hand and pulled her back into her bedchamber, where the embers of the fire still glowed feebly. "Come inside," he told her. "You must be absolutely freezing."

She darted a nervous look toward the heavy oak door that led into her chamber, where she knew any servants or guards could soon come in to let her know someone was outside her door. "But what if someone comes in and sees us together, like this?" she asked.

"Good thing I know all of the guards on duty. Fat Tom is watching your door tonight and as good of a man he is, he tends to fall asleep. I assure you, we will be fine," he smiled brightly at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "You mustn't worry, my lady. I only wished to see you tonight… as I wasn’t at the feast."

"Oh, yes. You were dearly missed tonight." She laughed, backing away just enough to grab her robe and wrap it around her. She had hoped to see him after her talk with her older sister, but Ned hadn’t been at the feast. "Should we sit?"

"Yes,” he said, moving to sit beside her on the couch in front of the hearth. “I wish we could spend more time together." He cupped her cheek and leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. “My days with Lord Edward have become long and busy, however boring they may be.”

“I look forward to what time we do spend together,” she said positively. “I do, however, wish to spend our time together tonight doing something other than talking.”

She looked up and met his eyes. The steel wasn’t back, but he could see the determination in her gaze and before he could blink, she was reaching for him. Her hands were cupping his face and she’d pulled him down toward her. Her lips were soft, softer than he was used to, and he always forgot until they pressed up against him again.

All thoughts that flooded his brain disappeared and they stayed pressed together. He remembered she was only wearing a robe and a thin nightgown underneath that. Before she had pulled the robe on, the soft curves of her body had been highlighted to him in the light of the hearth. As his desire for her heightened, he pulled her away from him before he could learn more about her.

He knew that if she had been any other girl than a noble lady, nothing would’ve stopped him from wanting to bed her, but Katherine was different. Her softness only will haunt his dreams forever.

He took a few settling breaths, his temples pounding where his blood was beating them mercilessly. “Katherine, no…” he looked around the room as though the wallpaper had eyes, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the dark strands. He stilled and his eyes land on her. “We shouldn’t.”

She was sitting near him, her silk robe the same light white color as the couch’s color. Her cheeks were flushed, from what he had said just now or almost kiss he can’t tell. Her hair was disheveled from sleep still, loose curls coming to shape around her face. The last rays of light from the embers of the fire were cast upon her face, showing her soft smile to him as she nodded.

His heart picked up pace in his chest, his throat narrowed. How he loved her so much already lost to him. They had only just met.

“I want you, Ned,” she told him. “I should not want you this much, but I still do. I want you so much just the thought of another having you makes my blood boil in my veins.” She took a hesitant step toward him, altering his breathing with the look in her brown eyes only. “You’re the one I think of when I drift off to sleep every night. Yours are the hands I imagine touching me, loving me…”

His fists clenched at the images she put in his mind. They create a spark and fire roared to life inside him. He let out a small groan and has to fight the urge to reach to touch her.

“Do you not want me as I do you, Ned?” She asked. “Just tell me and I will understand.” She was close enough for him to feel her breath against his skin as she tortured him with her words. “I spoke with my sister of how I feel for you today. She believes you to be an honorable man… as do I and I want to tell my mother of my desire to be your wife.”

He closed his eyes, fighting the storm inside him with all his might. “We can’t,” he whispered. “It’s not that I don’t feel for you as you do me… I do. We should wait until our wedding night, and we shall go talk to your mother. I desire for you to be my wife too.”

As he spoke, she brought one small hand to his chest. The touch burned him even through the fabric of the tunic he wore. A shiver wracked his body. It’s too much, she as too much for him. Katherine stared him down, hard. She was beautiful, willful, and prideful. She was everything he wanted and then some more. She had gotten under his skin, started a fire in his veins. It joined the hurricane that’s been hovering over his heart, the hurricane that bore her name.

For the first time in Ned’s life, he understood how any man could forget all about his honor and the vows he’d sworn. He stood how men could father a bastard. He understood because he was forgetting too, because the more he looked at Katherine and how she was looking back at him, the more he forgot about everything.

It all faded to nothing compared to how he felt for her. Ned loved Lady Katherine, and he hated himself for loving her, gods, he really did, but he loved her anyway.

* * *

Melinda was quiet through most of the time she spent with Jim the next morning, sipping calmingly at the tea he provided in the place of water or wine. The quiet, the warm drink, and the rain that had picked up the night before all soothed her.

Her nerves felt afraid and frazzled from tossing and turning all night, plagued frightening dreams of Jim being discovered with her, their heads on the chopping block, Edward’s proud face assured. She knew it would never end that way, that she and Jim would not be discovered, that even if they did, her mother would protect her.

Even still, she watched Jim work carefully and fiddled with the edge of her dark green sleeve, trying not to think too much about the conversation with Holly. Everything inside her was screaming to confess her feelings loudly, to stomp across the room and press her lips to his and forget she was engaged and she was a noble lady with duties and all of the things she knew she could never forget.

“How are you feeling today?” Jim finally asked, reaching to the spindle-legged table beside him to sip from his own ceramic cup. “You are very quiet.”

“I feel as though Lord Edward may be more frustrated by the delay than he let on initially,” she said idly, looking back out the window.

He nodded. “Perhaps,” he layered another few strokes on his canvas before he spoke again. “But I asked of you, my lady, not of His Lordship.”

“I am fine,” she lied, voice a mere whisper. Swallowing and steeling herself, she threw it all on the line. “I am confused about my emotions as of late.”

“How so?” He asked.

Melinda considered him for a long while before she answered, watching thick drops of rainwater drip heavily down the warped and buckled glass window. The storm didn’t help her thoughts, because besides calming her, she felt equally unrestful within as the world looked without.

When she finally spoke, it was with a sense of unease, even fear, at how he would react to her words. “Do you believe marriage should be a union of love over convenience?” She asked quietly.

Jim paused in his work and cleared his throat. “I believe it may depend on the situation one is in,” he answered. She scowled at him, and he knew the answer was unsatisfactory. “From my view, love always lasts longer than convenience, my lady.”

“And so if I were-” Melinda glanced at him and sighed. “If I were to tell you I do not love my husband-to-be, would you still believe it best to be married for love?”

“I…” Jim frowned at the portrait, which, now they’d come to some semblance of friendship, was making good time. “Melinda, I feel uncertain that my experience with love and marriage would promote stroke advice.”

“I’m simply asking a question, Jim,” she bristled. The air in the room felt as though it had dropped ten degrees, and was suddenly cold, stagnant, not the pleasant calm she’d come to expect; she wanted nothing more than to flee. “Please,” she said after another long silence, trying to lower her hackles. “I am lost.”

“Your situation, while unfortunate, is necessary,” he bit out sadly. He felt spiteful at her words, unsure of her meaning. It was one of those seemingly innocent questions full of unspoken words, but with alternate cravings. “You are going to marry Lord Edward in a matter of weeks.”

Melinda huffed and looked at him. “I may be marrying Lord Edward soon, but I have never loved him the way he wanted. Not the way I love you.”

“My lady, please,” he pleaded and set down his paintbrush. “Torture me no more with ideas that cannot be.”

“But what if they could?” She asked. “Would that be alright with you?”

Jim laid his hands over his face and groaned. He’d dreamed of her, of the smoothness of her skin and the feel of her lips. The idea of tangling his hands in her hair and pulling her into his bed was more than he could bear.

When he removed his hands, he could see the tears that tracked down Melinda’s beautiful face and understood what, exactly, she meant when she said she was lost. “You should not have to marry without love,” he admitted and her eyes met his, the unspoken words carried themselves to his lips against his own volition. “If things… if things were different, I would marry you in an instant,” he whispered.

The gasp that left Melinda was more than he thought he could bear, and he lifted the small brush to continue his like stroke that, he hoped, emulated the beauty he could not have.


	7. Chapter 7

Melinda and Jim could barely look at one another when the next day’s session began. He was flushed and flustered from the start, his words jumbled and stuttering. She could feel the shift between them, and the tension which stemmed from it, so instead of pushing against a locked door, she chose to sit as instructed her first day and steal glances at him whenever she was given the chance.

“Melinda,” he groaned after only a few hours. “I believe I have painted the same spot four times since your arrival.” The sun made its first appearance since Sunday morning, a warm gold over the empty garden. “You will have to forgive me for ending our time so abruptly.”

“It is not a concern,” she said, though in truth she knew her time was better spent here than in the company of other, less deserving men. She thought of the promise she made of Edward, to have him join her in a stroll around the garden and with a glance out at the newly blue-hued sky, she figured this would be a better time than any to do that. She stood and brushed her skirts off, glancing when Jim moved to palm the scarf in his pocket. “I must attend Lord Edward, in any case,” she confessed.

“Of course,” his tone was bitter even though his expression was nearly careless. “I’ll see you at the usual time tomorrow, my lady.”

Melinda nodded slowly and curtsied. She didn’t wait for him to rise or escort her to the door; she simply left him where he sat before the tears struck again.

* * *

The garden smelled of wet roses and the pine laden forest in the distance. Melinda’s head hurt, and she was angry and bitter at the letter in her hands that wrote out that her lord fiance had been seen in Lady Holly’s quarters and then later on Holly was spotted going to the Lord’s chambers.

It was just another way to prove that Edward had strayed from her, once again. Suddenly, some spiteful, vengeful part of herself reared its ugly head and all she could think to say to Edward were words of caution, warning, and defense. 

The feelings swirling within herself, comparisons between that which she felt for Edward and that which she felt for Jim, all confused her, made her lonely and tired and desperate for some sort of solid answer. Melinda was still young, still fragile, still so, so uncertain of the path her life was taking, even if it had been written long before she’d begun to form memories.

Melinda had sent Andrea to collect Edward for their walk and of course, requiring an escort, had commissioned her to stay. When Edward waved a hand to her in greeting from the back stairs, she stood and took a few slow steps into the first wide, hedge-lined path.

He caught up with her shortly after, breathing slightly labored. They walked through the garden a ways apart; every so often, Melinda would stop to admire the flowers and glance back at Andrea, who followed behind a good distance to give them some privacy.

“My lord,” she said as she tucked two fingers behind a rose and leaned down to smell it. Her tone was light but had a dangerous air. “Only God is to know the future, of course, but allow me to tell you what I wish our life to contain.”

Edward glanced at her and nodded, his step faltering only slightly as they turned a corner. “Of course, my lady. I am anxious to hear what you have in your mind,” he replied, making an obvious effort to keep his voice bright.

“I wish for a large family and many visits to the country.” She paused and stopped, glancing as Andrea stopped where she was and bowed her head. When she turned to look at Edward, he seemed nervous. “I wish for our children to be loved and for you to be faithful to me. I will not let them grow up thinking their father is not an honorable man to his lady wife.”

Edward’s eyes widened and Melinda lowered her head, smiling a little at the surprised expression. “My lady, I don’t know what you mean,” he said in what she knew to be feigned confusion as they walked on, hurrying to grip her by the elbow.

She shook him off and tucked herself in tighter. “I have not finished, my lord,” she spoke over him. “You may carry on your tryst with my chambermaid for now, but you must understand something.” She could feel Edward’s wary gaze on her and reveled in the power she held. “If I come to find it has continued after our marriage, I will not be so forgiving of Holly this time.”

Edward placed a hand on her back as they turned another corner. “I must apologize to you, my lady,” he said, helping her settle her on a bench and kneeling before her. “Were I to know you had found out... it was only for a short while, and in any case—”

Melinda shook her head and laughed softly. “Many visits over four years does not seem like a short time to me,” she whispered. “Have your fun with Holly now, Edward, but remember you are saying a vow to me in a matter of days.”

Edward nodded and bowed his head. There was a dark flush on his face, and a guilty air about him, but he conceded and stood. “My lady will forgive me, I hope,” he said, holding out his arm to her.

“Of course,” she replied, taking his arm and allowing him to pull her up. “It will take time, but I will be able to forgive you.”

The young lord stayed, his arm wound through hers as he hurried her down a quiet, more secluded path before gripping her shoulders and turning her to face him. “I thought I was clear when we met in your mother's chambers, Melinda,” he whispered.

Her temper flared at the casual use of her name, but she bit it down and glanced towards Andrea’s concerned face. She jerked her chin away; Andrea took the signal and turned to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

“Love me all you wish, my lord,” she said venomously, “but make no mistake, your betrayal is noted, and you have luck on your side that it was myself and not my mother, who found out about your transgressions.”

Edward nodded, brow tightly knitted. “I understand that, Melinda. I hope you know that I love you, heart and soul, but have always feared you do not love me in return,” he palmed the side of her face; chills ran down her spine at his touch, and a confusing warmth pooled in her belly.

“I have no answer to quell your fears,” she said. “Your love is a confusing one, Edward. I did not know it was common for those who love others to sneak around behind their backs with another.”

“Melinda,” he pleaded. “I beg of you to not speak this way to me.”

“Do not pretend this is news to you. I know it isn’t,” she tried to step away from his grip, but his fingers tightened around her shoulder and she glanced between his face and hand with wide, angry eyes.

“It is not, but please,” he stumbled over his words, “allow me to prove you of my love.”

Before Melinda could open her mouth to answer, Edward leaned in and crushed his lips to hers.

It felt strange, this first glance at intimacy, and as he wrapped his long, strong arms around her, she melted. Unexpectedly, this physical affection stirred within her a reaction she could never have predicted. His tongue flicked out to trace the seam of her lips, and her gasp allowed him entrance. His hands fell flat against her back, one snaking up into her hair to fist at the roots.

Melinda’s hands wound to the side of his face and gripped tightly, her lips moving in time with his, tongue flexing languidly, dancing against his own. She moaned lightly as he pulled their bodies completely flush, so she could feel his hardness, however faint, pressed up against her hip. The outrageous situation she was in hit her like a strong wind and she pulled away roughly, breathing hard.

His hands were still wound in her hair and tight in her skirt. “Do you believe me now?” He asked, his face flushed.

She let her hands drop to his shoulders. “My lord, I never disbelieved you. I think you are merely confused as to what your love for me is,” she said breathlessly. “And… I do not want this with you, now. You have a conflict between us, and that is your love for Lady Holly.”

Edward sighed. “I understand,” he replied as he released her. “It will end, I swear to you.”

“If you swear it,” she said, “that I believe. But I must tell you, Lord Edward,” Melinda met his gaze with a scorching look. “Touch me again without my consent, and I will have your title.” She pulled fully away and dropped her hands back into their usual positioning in front of her skirts.

Edward followed her out of their secluded path back to where Andrea stood. For the first time in their relationship, Melinda felt truly powerful and in control.

* * *

Jim felt despondent as he paced away from the window. Secluded or not, his windows were high enough to see into a vast majority of the garden. Lord Edward and his lady Melinda were wrapped around each other, followed by his soft eyes and whatever desperately whispered words.

His lips were on hers next and he couldn’t make out the details of Melinda’s face of course, but he imagined all of these things he’d seen there recently with scarring accuracy as she pulled Edward closer to her.

Jim had become so attached to Melinda, to this idea of her; it was a false intimacy, etched into this imagination like real memories. What would it be like, he wondered, to love her, and be loved by her in return? It was undignified, even sacrilegious, what he did next.

Sitting in her chair, to get as close as he could to her faint scent, he dug out the scarf from his pocket and pressed it to his nose while palming his hardness through his breeches. Once his rigid cock would strain-no further against the coarse linen, he let his hand reach up to the buttons and undid them slowly, edging himself with the unharried movements.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dropping the front of his pants down so his blushing member could spring free. He wrapped his hand loosely around it, reveling in the slow, easy drags that had him biting back a moan. His mental image of Melinda transformed, melding with the few sexual encounters he’d had

Jim was a man obsessed, unable to contain himself as he continued to fuck wildly into his own fist. He inhaled the smell of her scarf again as he imagined her head falling back and the sound of her voice saying his name.

That was enough to cause him to go over the edge.

“Nng, Melinda,” he moaned, throwing his head back as a swimming pressure built in his stomach and groin. He cried out a series of expletives mingling with Melinda’s name as his seed spilled over his fist. He felt unreal and raw, a tangled mess of stickiness and images of her.

Then, the guilt.

He’d touched himself before, but as he stuffed Melinda’s scarf back in his pocket, he felt immediately unclean. It was as if he’d tainted their space, their holy ground. He walked to his small, porcelain basin and rinsed his hand, wetting the linen to wipe whatever mess had spilled onto his clothes, and stipped down to bathe.

He couldn’t eat, attend dinner, do anything in these clothes. He hadn’t meant his desire to go as far as it had. His words the previous day had only spurred his affections further.

Jim knew, deep within himself, he loved this woman, as he’d never loved anyone before.

* * *

A blush that Melinda couldn’t explain rushed up to her face as Jim said nothing to her when he opened the door for her Friday morning. His cold indifference alarmed her and she felt more and more perturbed as she moved across the room.

“My lord,” she asked, pausing beside where he sat, staring at the dark linen which covered her portrait. 

When he looked up at her, his gaze was icy. “Why tell me of your feelings and his indiscretions if you, in the next moment, go to his arms when he asks?” Melinda looked at him, nonplussed by his tone and question, her brows furrowed in confusion. She shook her head. “Why lead me on, Melinda?”

“I know not what you mean, Jim, but do not appreciate your tone in the slightest,” she spat in return. “Any affection I have given to my betrothed was meant to be in private, and as I am—”

Jim stood and clutched her shoulders. “Be plain with me, for I am falling apart because of you.”

Melinda met his eyes, so blue but still so dark. “You have me, my lord. Whatever moment you witnessed was his doing, and my participation an error in judgment.” For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he may kiss her, and she primed herself for his advances.

Instead, he let his arms fall and shook his head as if clearing it. “Is this the truth?”

“The only truth,” she replied in a whisper.

“I-” He cut himself off. “I apologize for my outburst, Melinda.”

“It’s alright, Jim,” she murmured and turned, making to walk to her seat.

He grabbed her wrist. “Melinda, you have no idea what a comfort it was to hear those words.” He pushed and she looked over her shoulder at him. “I feared…”

“What did you fear?” She prompted breathlessly.

The hand on her wrist felt white-hot and she wondered idly how that heat would feel in other places.

“I feared to lose you before I have ever had you as my own,” he explained.

His eyes were dark, and a blush crept up her face. “You shall not, yet,” she whispered.

Jim released her wrist and she moved to the chair, heart racing and stomach curling nervously.

* * *

“Melinda,” Jim said, several hours later and she tipped her face towards him, away from the windswept grounds. “I’ve reached the point at which I can work both in and out of your company.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. “Of course.”

Her heart fell; she’d been afraid of this moment when she was no longer useful to a cause outside her usual duties as a lady. She ran a hand over her hair and nodded, brushing invisible dust off her skirts.

“Would… would you like to see it?” He asked.

Melinda smiled and nodded, walking to him. She allowed Jim to wrap her leisurely in his grasp, one arm around her waist; she felt that same budding warmth she did in the garden, but studier, more tactile, ebbing out to her fingers and filling her chest with a fast heartbeat. The painting was not finished fully, this much was obvious.

She still felt her breath catch at the sight. The woman who stared into the distance couldn't possibly be herself, for she was far too beautiful. Long fingers placed themselves delicately over a full, pink mouth and one blush stained cheek. Her hair fell in soft, luminous curls; honey-brown irises gazed out from dark, deep-set eyes which looked at once hollow and expansive; her skin was pale but warmer than she had ever felt in her life, and the light seemed to be flowing from nowhere and everywhere.

Melinda gasped in a few forgotten breaths and leaned towards Jim, fighting tears. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Mister Clancy,” she said, gesturing at the portrait. His face fell, confused and alarmed, as he glanced between the painted Melinda and the physical one. She shook her head and laughed in spite of his concern. “This cannot possibly be me. You’ve made me far too beautiful.” She looked over the graceful face once more, seemingly staring into that void of light and had to refrain from trailing a finger over the basecoat on the unfinished dress.

Her statement finally clicking, Jim laughed loudly and boisterously, filling the room with his effervescent noise. After a moment of laughter, she became acutely aware of his thumb on her hip, rubbing slow half-circles into her clothed skin. She closed her eyes briefly at the sensation, trying to memorize its familiarity and desperation.

“My lady,” he said, standing from his stool without ever releasing her. His hand trailed over her waist until his fingers dug into her opposite side. “If you believe this poor man’s rendition to be too beautiful, then imagine the agony I have faced looking at you all these long days.”

Melinda frowned, confused. “I don’t believe I understand you,” she said softly.

Jim stepped forward: now was as good a time as ever to throw all caution to the wind, consequences be damned. He reached out hesitantly, and caressed her cheek, wiping his thumb over her cheekbone. Melinda froze, but didn’t tense, her confusion turning to curiosity.

“To be in a room with you is to be in a room of heaven, Melinda,” he whispered. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

She could feel a tug at the back of her throat and fought to choke back tears. She pressed her face into Jim’s hand and grabbed it with one of hers, smoothing the flat of her thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. She expected the moment to end once she touched him, for him to be shocked back into his reality and away from hers.

Instead, he stepped forward and without asking, breathed the ghost of a kiss over her lips. She uttered a soft whimper at the lightness of his touch. The sound seemed to remind him of their situation, and he broke away.

“I apologize for the forwardness of my actions,” he said, stooping into a shallow bow.  She swallowed hard to stem the flow of tears she knew was upon her. “You are free to go, Melinda.”

She touched his shoulder. “Please stand, Jim,” she whispered.

He did so, and she stared into his eyes - blue and deep as the ocean. She remembered at that moment seeing the ocean for the first time as a child, standing on a cliff overlooking as ships sailed into port harbors on the coast of a large country she’d already forgotten the name of.

Her heart pounded as she stepped forward and reached out to twine her fingers through his. “Do that again?” her voice shook with trepidation, and she felt unsure that he would comply.

Jim’s eyes softened, but his brow furrowed. “Melinda,” he whispered, “if we were to be caught-”

“I’m not due back for an hour,” she excused, stepping forward again so she was inches from him, her brown eyes boring into his, desperate and demanding. “Kiss me again, Mister Clancy.” She giggled lightly. "Or... should I say, Jim?"

His heart jumped at the sound of the teasing words coming from her lips, and he closed the gap between them without another thought. This kiss was not as gentle. It was hard, demanding, and full of unspoken truths between them both.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hands pressed into her sides as his tongue slipped between her lips and mingled with hers. Melinda brought her hands down to smooth over the front of his chest, his hands coming to grasp them as he pulled away from her.

“We should not be doing this, my lady,” he said out of duty, though his voice was weak as she kissed and nipped down his neck.

“Please don’t call me that,” Melinda said between kisses. “My name-”

“Melinda, I know,” Jim sighed as he guided her chin back up with a firm grip, and then his lips found hers again.

This kiss, so similar in intensity, was worlds apart from that she’d experienced the day before with Lord Edward. She suddenly resented her fiance for stealing her first experience from Jim; whom, however, didn’t seem to mind as he drew her to settle her into his lap. His fingers trailed lovingly down the side of her face, warm and welcoming as he pulled away to gaze at her with wild eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You’ve no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” he whispered, gazing at her longingly.

Melinda thought for a long moment. Was this the time to throw everything into the open, risk it all for what Holly said was a desperate scramble at something as fleeting as this sort of affection? She decided it was; she was willing to risk everything if it meant she knew his touch before Edward’s.

“Meet me in the garden tonight,” she said, barely a murmur.

Jim looked concerned. “My lady, a kiss is one thing, but…” his words caught in his throat at the look of desperation on her face.

“Please, Jim,” she pleaded. “I will never allow any harm to come to you.” She kissed him over and over, small short pecks to his forehead and cheeks, longer, languid ones on his neck and lips.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, fingers bruising against her ribs and hips. “But you must stop this assault!” they both laughed as she continued to pepper his cheeks in hot, soft kisses. “Melinda, you will be my undoing.”

“Never call me anything but my name again when we are in private,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to his again. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said in between kisses.

Then, a while later, Melinda laid her head to rest on his shoulder, eyes closed and face flushed, she knew she’d already come undone, perhaps even the second she had laid eyes on him.

* * *

The plan was set as soon as she was able to catch Andrea on her own. She’d already drunk the bitter, herbal concoction her closest friend had said she and her mother had used for many of the ladies over the years.  Andrea had left Melinda’s quarters an hour ago, patrolling the path she was meant to take, which meant sidling silently past her mother’s room, trying not to attract the attention of the cleaners in the basement kitchen, and escaping the notice of anyone patrolling the manor at night - a rare occurrence, but something that nonetheless happened on occasion.

She was nervous, but felt confident in her approach, even if her anxious pacing and hand-wringing indicated otherwise. The three sharp knocks that sounded against her door after about ten more minutes were her dear friend’s indication that all was clear; Andrea would stay with the ladies until she saw Melinda’s indication that she’d returned - alone: her favorite silk scarf tied around the knob.

It was simple, which made it all the easier to mess up. Melinda slipped from her room and nodded at Andrea, who smiled a secretive smile and waved her on her way; she eyed her mother’s and sister’s rooms with trepidation as she walked slowly, her shoes clutched in one hand, the sound of her socked feet shuffling low against the rough stone.

Once on the last stair to the garden - her walk was successful and entirely undisturbed - she pulled her shoes on, struggling only briefly against her stays. The night was cool and dewy, leaving the edge of her skirt damp and cold.

She scanned through the dark, the waxing, though nearly full moon all there was to guide her. Even encumbered by the resolute darkness, she found her way through the steady moonlight and to the place they’d agreed on. Jim already sat there, face upturned and eyes closed, basking in the clear moonlight; they were both fully occluded from glances and unsearching eyes.

“You’re very quiet,” he whispered after she stood watching him for a long moment. “The skirts give you away, though.” His eyes popped open and he stood, drawn to her as if by a wire or line.

After only a moment's hesitation, he pulled her in by her hips, silently begging her to make the first move. She didn’t know how and Melinda stood, frozen with nerves, until instinct between them took over and their mouths crashed together, teeth knocking and gasping. A full-body shiver took over Melinda as he drew her back to the bench, hands already half-way to yanking up her skirts.

There was no such thing as too fast; everything was too slow, encumbered by her skirts or his buttons. Jim pressed her into the bench and kept his mouth against her, trailing it over her jaw and down her neck; he suckled lightly on the skin there, not hard enough to leave a mark. Melinda felt like she would explode from the pressure building within her; so when one of his spit-slicked fingers pressed easily into her, she gasped in surprise.

Time slowed to a mere crawl between them, noiseless and serene aside from the rustling of her skirts. She begged with a half-hushed moan, her skin feverishly hot as he dragged his finger up and down against her. Mewls and gasps of pleasure escaped her and Jim pressed a firm kiss to her knee as he kneeled in the damp grass path in fron to her, sliding one finger slowly inside her.

It pinched at first, and then again when he pressed another digit in her slick opening, a new and strange sensation, but he touched her in ways she didn’t know he could. She gripped his shoulders, the bench, ran her fingers through his hair. Nothing felt right as waves of pleasure washed over her, tingling through her extremities, numbing her fingers and lips.

“Oh, Jim,” she whined, head falling back against the hedgerow behind her.

“Say it again,” he growled against the inside of her thigh, voice low and untethered.

“Jim,” she repeated, searching for his face; he had ducked beneath her skirts as he gently spread her legs with a feral noise and kissed her between her thighs with his hot, wet tongue.

The sensation was immediately not enough and yet too much. She cried out as his fingers worked inside her and his mouth moved sensuously against her until his beard and she was soaking wet. Her vision blurred and a high buzzing interrupted her hearing as her body felt at once like lightning and a puddle. 

Her moans were rendered soundless as she tensed around his fingers and mouth. It wasn’t until he released her, that she lumped into the bench. He wiped his mouth crudely on the back of his hand and sleeve, gazing at her with a sort of reverence that made her blush.

“You are so incredible,” he whispered, rising to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

Melinda could taste the salty tang of her own skin and knew she should care, but couldn’t find it in herself too. “Jim, I-” She faltered, feeling unsure. “I don’t know what to do now,”

“Well, my lady,” he replied with a grin. “What do you want?”

“You,” she murmured.

Jim slid next to her on the bench and she still felt boneless, but let him sit her up and brush a few leaves from her hair. “How do you want me?” he asked with a rough voice against the curve of her ear.

“I-” She blushed as she glanced down to the bulge in his breeches.

“My sweet Melinda,” he laughed, sweetly sweeping a hand over her face as he grinned at her. “So pure.”

She frowned at the expression and reached towards his buttons. It couldn’t be that difficult if Jim had figured her out so fast. His laughter died in his throat as her fingers ghosted over his erection, hard and hot in his pants.

He licked his lips and watched as she slid to the ground in front of him, wetting the front of her skirts on the grass. A low, loud groan escaped Jim as he helped her pull his cock from its linen confines, her eyes growing wide as it bounced free.

Blushing, she wrapped her hand gingerly around it, testing the heft and weight. Melinda had never seen this more masculine part of a human but felt sure that with its slender, lengthy curve, his was superior by far than most.

She glanced at him, licking her lips. “Show me how?” her voice was barely audible, but he moaned at the words and nodded slowly.

He wound his left hand over her right one and increased her pressure, then began pulling their joined hands up and down. Between the amazement of her gaze and the feeling of her small, warm hand wrapped firmly around him, Jim knew he wouldn’t last long.

Her next question nearly through him over the edge on its own. “Can I- do what you did with-” she shook her head at her nerves and cleared her throat. “Can I put my mouth on you?” She dipped her head closer to him.

“Melinda, you do not have-”

“But I want to,” she whispered, her hot breath floating onto the tip of his member, making it twitch and him moan.

He nodded slowly and threw his head back with a chest-rumbling grumble as she experimented with her tongue and lips and insides of her cheeks, finally settling on bobbing lazily while both hands worked his shaft.

One of his hands found her hair and laced through it, just to feel the way she moved. The warning was a tightening in his balls, and he slowly peeled her off. “Please,” he whispered. “If you keep with that, I will have nothing left.” Melinda blushed and nodded, allowing Jim to pull her up and onto his lap. “I must ask for your permission. It is only right of a common man to be sure the future lady is comfortable with her activities.”

“You can...” Melinda laughed, smacking his arm playfully, almost lovingly. “Do with me what you will.”

Jim grinned and touched her face. “I believe that to be the greatest sentence ever uttered, Melinda.” He leaned into her closely, their lips melding together again. “Can we move to the grass?”

She nodded and they stood, going to lay together just behind the bench where Jim laid down his jacket for her. As he fumbled with her skirts until she was exposed to the open air, Jim quietly reveled in the smooth skin of her thighs, light as parchment. He moaned before he even touched the heated skin under his hands.

“Jim,” she whispered wantonly. “I’m ready.”

He fisted his hand around his erection and stroked once before glancing up at her. “This may ache, I am told,” he whispered. “Stop me if it is too painful or you.” He pushed in slowly and was immediately right— if his fingers pinched, this burned and wrenched. She tightened her fingers on his shoulder and whimpered. Jim stopped at the noise, concern painting his face. “Melinda… are you-”

“Please,” she said, tugging on his loose tunic and moving her hands up his bare chest underneath. “Keep going, it will pass.”

Once fully within her, he gave her a moment to adjust — which was neither below average nor overlong. He waited for the expression on her face to change from pained to pleasurable. He saw it in the creeping blush, the droop of her lids, and began rocking his hips against hers, slowly and carefully, trying to elicit any sound from her.

Melinda closed her eyes and huffed out a few short, sharp breaths before she pulled on him by his shoulders. The way her nails felt against his skin made him groan, and he knew there would be marks there tomorrow.

“More,” she moaned. “I want more.”

Jim bit back a growl and reached forward. He wound her legs around his waist, then drove into her faster, letting her feet against the small of his back control the pressure. She pushed him in hard each time he began to pull out, letting keening moans and soft gasps fall from her lips

She felt like heaven around him and his hands roamed over her waist, her thighs, her breasts, her face. They brushed away the hair that had stuck, sweat soaked despite the cool air, to her forehead behind her ear, and caressed over her chin and lips. When she laved his thumb with her tongue and sucked it into her mouth, he swore quietly and gripped her hip hard enough to leave bruises with his free hand.

“Fuck,” he swore lightly. “oh, Melinda...”

“Jim,” she stuttered. “S-so… good.”

“So good,” he confirmed in a breathless moan.

Each stroke was like fire - he could feel the flames being stoked in his belly and gasped out indecipherable words as his climax closed in around him. The slick sounds of their sex echoed through the deserted garden, and her fingers dug hard into his wrists as he leaned down to suckle on her earlobe.

“Oh, Mel.” he murmured, his grip becoming erratic. “Oh, God…”

Each thrust, so easily punctuated by another stroke of her legs, became arrhythmic, and he threw his head back and groaned low and long as his climax hit him. She followed him with a strangled cry as his hips fell against hers, a sound like a sob ripping from her chest as she pulled his head down.

Their mouths met in sloppy gasps. Exhausted, she melted back against the grassy ground and let him pull out, pulling her down to cradle her in his arms.

“You have officially broken me, my lady,” he whispered. “I may never want for a woman who is not you again.”

Melinda laughed and turned her head to face him. He was flushed, with dark eyes and dark hair askew, stuck to his neck and temples. “Perhaps,” she said, “but perhaps it is you who has broken me, Jim.” She allowed herself to lay on the grass a moment longer, then pushed herself sitting.

Jim whined at the loss. “Must you go?” He asked, his fingertips trailing up her back.

Melinda flicked her gaze back to him sadly. “I must,” she confirmed. “But I will be in your chambers tomorrow, yes?”

Jim shook his head. “What I have must dry a while, my lady.”

“Then draw me for yourself,” Melinda leaned back down to kiss him, her stomach swooping and her joints quivering. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered and through closed eyes, he could only imagine what she would look like under the sweep of her many skirts and layers of clothing.

That was for another day.


	8. Chapter 8

A long, low sigh escaped Melinda and she looked from the window to Jim as he continued to sketch with charcoal on a large sheet of paper. She leaned forward and picked up her cup of tea off the table. The scratching of his charcoal against the paper was soothing to her and she took a few small sips from her teacup as she watched him.

A few of Jim’s loose dark curls fell in front of his eyes and he pushed them away with a frustrated noise. It left a small streak of charcoal on his forehead. Melinda giggled softly and the noise, still foreign to him, caused him to look up.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

She shook her head and covered her mouth. “You have charcoal on your face,” she whispered over the edge of her teacup.

He looked down at his hands and laughed. “Can you hand me the towel from beside my washbasin?” Jim asked, smudging something else on the paper and looking at it contentedly.

Melinda nodded and set her teacup down before she rose and moved toward his vanity. She tried to ignore her reflection in the mirror where she could see the pleasurable flush of her cheeks as she picked up the linen cloth and brought it back to Jim. She tried to sneak a glance at his drawing, but he held a blackened hand over it and smirked.

“Unless you want to meet the same fate as my forehead, avert your eyes, my lady.” He said.

She eyed his hands wearily as he feigned bringing them closer to her dark blue dress. “If you bring your filthy charcoal hands any closer, I’ll scream,” she teased as she wiped the smudge of charcoal off his forehead. He brought them close to her again as she leaned to brush a kiss over his lips. “Don’t test me, Mister Clancy,” she warned.

He gave her a chaste peck but turned his head slightly. “Maybe I want you to scream,” he said, his eyes darkening slightly as he looked at her. He moved the paper and drawing board from his lap and beckoned her to sit with him. “Would that be so bad?”

Melinda raised a brow. “We could be caught,” she whispered. “That was why the gardens are safe at night. No one will disturb us there.”

His breathing was heavy as she settled onto his lap, pulling her skirts up around him, “and you are worried about being caught in my private chambers? No one has ever interrupted us before.”

“I suppose you have a point,” she said, letting her lips turn up into a playful smirk. Melinda gripped each of his wrists in each of her hands and drew his arms over his head, where he let his hands fall behind the back of his chair. She gave him a meaningful look as her hands snaked down to his breeches and she whispered in his ear.

“Is it not thrilling, though?” He began as her fingers worked to unbutton his trousers, “the idea of being seen, getting caught.”

Jim moaned as she wrapped her skinny fingers around his already half-hard cock. She moved up to kiss him as she stroked him gently; their lips having just met when there was a knock at the door. Melinda moved off of him swiftly, and he tucked himself back into his trousers.

Both were thankful for the dark fabric of his pants as he picked up his drawing tablet again and Melinda walked over to stand by the window. She had looked over her reflection in the mirror once and heat curled up her face, her skin pinking darkly as she tried to regain her composure. She gazed out at the rain, which had begun to fall since early that morning, a light spray coating the entire garden and manor in a misty haze.

“Enter,” Jim called out as he continued to sketch on his pad, not lifting his head.

Melinda looked over her shoulder and her heart dropped into her stomach as Edward entered the room. The nobleman bowed deeply to her, though she didn’t miss the look of surprise at her presence in Jim’s room. She suddenly felt conscious of the bright flush on her skin and Jim’s, but as Edward rose he seemed not to notice.

She curtsied lightly and Jim steeled himself before standing, catching her eye before she glanced briefly at the slight bulge in his pants. Melinda sat back in her chair and stared out into the garden, trying to pinpoint the spot she and Jim had occupied the night before. She knew it was impossible though, however, it was too deep in the maze of shrubbery, hidden as she knew behind a tree and between bushes.

“Lord Edward,” Jim spoke and Melinda watched him dip into a short but polite bow. He seemed reluctant to set down his tablet, but leaned it against the chair, the drawing facing away from the young lord standing before them. “You are a surprising guest, I will admit.”

Melinda cleared her throat and smiled at Edward. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here, my lord?” She asked.

“I wanted to see the progress of the painting,” Edward said, glancing at Jim. “That was what you were working on, was it not?”

Melinda‘s heart jumped into her throat now, and she swallowed against the beating of it. They were not set to work on the portrait today, as it needed the time to dry; it was only a few days from completion, as well, if Jim worked hard at it.

She bit her lip as her eyes flashed to Jim. She could hear the suspicion and danger in Edward’s tone and fought hard to stay silent, allowing Jim to deal with the mess they had both created. It was a dangerous web of lies they had woven, she knew that now.

“The official painting is drying,” Jim replied, his voice blessedly calm. As he gathered his hands around his back, she could see them shaking and wanted nothing more than to clutch them in her own to steady them. She looked back out the window at the sky, clearing from a week's worth of rain. “I require a few more days of work on it, just touching up and one last round of color on the lady’s dress.”

“So, you’ve not yet completed it?” Edward asked.

Melinda rolled her eyes hard at the question. _ Is that not what he just said _, she thought to herself sarcastically.

“That is a simpler way of phrasing what I just said,” he replied coolly.

Melinda cleared her throat again.

“Something to say?” Edward asked her.

“Oh, no, my lord,” she said, looking back between him and Jim, who faced resolutely away. “Something in my throat.” She smiled at the lord, glaring daggers at the back of his head when he turned back to face Jim.

“As you’ve been informed, my lord,” Jim continued, more politely, much to Melinda’s relief, “we’ve extended the deadline-”

“I would have thought an artist of your caliber to finish much faster, Mister Clancy. As you promised me you would originally,” Edward replied, cutting Jim off. “I’ve had my wedding postponed for this painting, though I’m not sure why.” 

Melinda shook her head and looked away from the men, leaning forward to pour more tea from the teapot into her cup. She didn’t want to get involved at this point. It would only dig herself a deeper hole to try and get out of.

“My lord,” Jim protested. “I have never painted a noblewoman before and I wish for the painting to be up to her very high standard.” His voice shook with barely contained anger. “If this is not your wish, perhaps you can convince her otherwise.”

Melinda kept her face firmly turned to the window, sipping tea quietly as she watched the daily maintenance take place in the garden.

“Of course not,” Edward said quickly and glanced at her, his tone brisk. “If the painting is drying, does that mean you are done with Melinda for the day?”

A tense silence filled the room, one that she wished to escape from. She had so little time left with Jim, however, that she tolerated the strength of the resentment coming from Edward’s mouth. “No, my lord,” Melinda’s own voice was startling to her but firm as she looked away from the window and towards the young lord. “Mister Clancy and I are not done for the day.”

Edward turned slowly towards her, his eyes narrowed as they met hers. “No?” The lord was surprised by her sudden interjection.

“That is what I said, my lord,” she replied, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of tea. “Is it not?”

Edward marched over to her and grabbed her hand. “You will not speak to me like that in front of him,” he scoffed, just loud enough for her to hear, but Jim had too.

“And what are you meaning to do about it, my lord?” She asked as Jim cleared his throat and she yanked her hand away.

Edward turned back to Jim and he looked between the two. “You will have to forgive me for the intrusion then,” the lord said with a touch of bitterness.

Melinda nodded. “Of course,” she replied happily. “I will see you at mass tomorrow morning.”

“Ah, yes,” Edward clapped Jim on the shoulder. Melinda saw him stiffen almost imperceptibly., “You will have to join us for the hunt, Jim. It’s a Sunday tradition on my estate.”

“I wish I could,” Jim replied, shifting subtly so Edward’s hand fell from his shoulder. “However, I feel obligated to attempt work that does not require Mel-” He caught himself and swallowed her name quickly out of his throat. “My lady’s presence.”

“Oh, I-” Edward stammered, glancing between Jim and Melinda again, lips pursed. “I don’t mean to rush. You are welcome, and in any case, how often will you be granted the privilege to see the future lady hunt with the men of her home?”

Jim glanced back at Melinda. He looked mildly surprised; she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“The decision is yours, Mister Clancy, but we prefer work not be done on Sundays but for the cooking,” she cleared her throat, “and we all participate in the cleaning and preparation of the animals.” She was anxious for the conversation to end so she could resume her day with Jim.

They were so quickly becoming shorter and shorter, and she feared the day when she would see him no longer. Edward nodded once then inclined his head in her direction.

“My lady love is correct - we try not to allow our estate to work on the Lord’s day other than what is necessary.” He cleared his throat. “I must take my leave, but I am happy to hear the painting is nearing completion.” He bowed low in her direction. “My lady,” he said reverently.

“Lord Edward,” she sighed, looking back out the window, expression bored.

Edward left the room without another word to Jim, who waited for the door to close before he let out a soft, impatient groan. Melinda sighed again and covered her mouth as a low laugh escaped her. Jim looked at her in awe, then stepped towards her and sank to his knees in front of her.

“Every part of me finds his conversations a bigger repellent,” she muttered with a sigh. “Any feelings I had for him wane further every day.”

“God,” he said, laying his head on her lap. She brushed her fingers through his flaxen curls and gazed at him. “I am sorry, my dear.”

“Our time together is coming to an end,” she whispered and her eyes were glazed with tears. “You know, I never imagined I would feel for someone the way I feel for you.”

He looked up at her as she stood, taking his hand in hers. They were still grey with charcoal, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She settled him in her seat and resumed the position she’d taken before being interrupted. Her skirt rustled as she moved to sit in front of him and she began unbuttoning his breeches once more.

There were no teasing movements this time, and she didn’t respond to his cautious words but for a shushing sound that escaped her quickly. She slipped her hand in to pull out his cock and began to coax it slowly back to hardness; she placed wet kisses on his neck and kept one of her hands clutched in his. 

They said nothing more to each other as he grew steadily firmer in her grasp. When she lifted up to settle herself onto him, he shifted to reach his hands up her skirt. He palmed her bare ass as she slowly lowered onto him. Melinda moaned quietly into his ear as she did, her hands on his shoulders, and began to rock her hips back and forward in time with his gentle thrusts.

The room was filled with their soft sounds as they ground against each other. Beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck and her temples; Jim’s own curly black hair stuck to his forehead and his eyelids fluttered with his gasps as her movements grew faster and stronger.

“Jim—” Melinda said in a low, keening whine as her hands tightened around his shoulders as he began to thrust hard into her, riding her high until she gasped softly and caught his mouth on hers.

The loud moan she released was muffled by his tongue and lips. Her core contracting on his swollen cock tipped him over the edge, and he spilled into her. His fingers dug almost painfully into the skin on her ass, and his head fell forward against her heaving chest as they both moved a few more times together.

Melinda shifted off of Jim, standing briefly to kiss him and very carefully tucked him back into his pants. His hands caught hers as she finished buttoning him up, and he brought them to his mouth. As he kissed her, she could feel his seed beginning to slide down her leg, stick and hot, and she pulled away.

“You still have that linen, I believe?” she asked him, her voice sultry. Jim nodded and pulled it from his pocket, holding it out for her. Instead of taking it, she lifted her many skirts to her knee and leaned in closer to him. “Clean me, if you will?” she asked in a soft whisper.

Jim smirked and leaned forward, hands sliding sensually up Melinda’s legs. With lighting quick movements, he yanked her forward and dipped his head beneath her skirts. She felt the linen cloth slide up the inside of her leg, with his lips following on the top of her thigh. She gasped and put her hands on his shoulders as he swiped the dry, scratchy cloth gently over her and followed the action with a quick kiss and a slow, warm swipe of his tongue. 

Melinda moaned, which turned to a whine as he backed out from under her skirts. “You insufferable tease,” she chuckled, smacking him playfully on the top of the head. She let her skirts fall and yelped in surprise as his hands wound around her waist and pulled her sideways onto his lap. He laughed and let his head fall to rest on her shoulder. She stroked her fingers through his curls. “I will miss you when our time together has ended,” she said softly.

“Let’s not think on that now,” Jim said, pressing a kiss to her clothed shoulder. “Just answer me this.”

“Hmm?” Melinda sighed, her hand caressing his cheek.

“Have I yet learned how to treat a lady?” he whispered and his tone was teasing but sincere.

Melinda smiled. “Oh yes,” she replied. “I think you’ve passed any tests I had before with flying colors.”

It wasn’t for another few hours that Jim showed her the charcoal drawing she’d so rudely interrupted. Melinda’s face was split by a wide grin, one she didn’t even know she could produce; her hair fell over her face and shoulders in gentle, sweeping waves, dark in some places and highlighted in others.

He’d even managed to produce a blush on her cheeks with only the dark, chalky substance, and had perfectly emphasized the way her knuckles gripped the arms of her chair.

Melinda looked at him and smiled widely. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. He tried to hand the large piece of parchment to her, but she shook her head. “You keep it.”

“And of the lie, we told your fiance?” He said softly.

“Well,” she said, brushing a kiss over his temple. “There have been worse lies.” Melinda laughed and swung an arm around her waist, careful not to brush her dress with his charcoal darkened fingers.

Jim kissed her hard and long, and yet not long enough.

Never long enough.

* * *

Melinda’s small hand came to knock on the wooden door. The sound was pitiful against the silence of the hall. At times when she most needed advice, she often felt that her mother and sister simply weren’t enough.

She could feel the rosary - unfamiliar on any day but Sunday - settled between her breasts as she stood in front of the door, and pressed a hand to the wooden beads hidden beneath the scarf she’d tucked hastily around her neck after retrieving her prayer beads.

“Enter,” the Archbishop’s calm voice said loudly. Melinda pushed the door open. He stood at the sight of her and bowed reverently. “My lady, this is a surprise.” The old man stood again and looked at her curiously.

“May we walk to the chapel together?” She asked. The godly man looked at her, a confused expression crossing his face. “I require guidance.”

The man nodded. “Of course, my child. Come here.” Melinda wound her arm through the man’s outstretched on and they made their slow way towards the chapel. “What is it you require?”

“Did you know my father?” She asked.

The archbishop nodded slowly. “Yes, he considered joining the seminary for a time as a boy. I counseled him until he met your mother. Nary a finer man there was,” he answered sadly. “But why do you not ask your mother or uncle this?”

Melinda ignored the question, brow furrowing. “Why did my mother marry him? If I’m correct, she was meant to marry another Lord. Would he not have been a better match? My father was only a cobbler's son. He would hunt to earn extra money.” The archbishop took a long time to consider her question.

Melinda held firm to his arm; she had met the man only twice before this instance: at her sister's baptism and her father's wake. Just as they approached the chapel, a small room off the much larger ballroom, he spoke.

“Your mother knew of the amnesty between your family and your cousins,” he said as they pushed open the doors together. “Her cousin would have inherited the throne because your uncle abdicated at a young age.” The older man escorted Melinda to one of the long wooden pew benches. “For a long time, I thought Thomas merely was a way for your mother to rebel, as any royal sometimes does before they step into their role at the throne. Your mother knew her leverage as the only natural heir left. She used it to her advantage when it became clear she would marry no other.”

“So she truly loved my father?” She asked.

The archbishop nodded. “I believe she loved him as fully, if not more than she loves Calypstica,” the old man chuckled and placed a hand on her knee. “God knows the heart of all His children, and provides the love He feels they need.” He watched her face sink and tipped his head towards hers, lowering his tone. “My advice for you, dear princess, is the same as it was for your mother all those years ago, though she was infinitely more forward in asking for it.” Melinda edged forward, anxious to listen even as a blush crept up her cheeks. “Would God provide that which is not necessary for the happiness of man? Remember, my dear, it was the pride of man, not the acts that brought down Sodom.”

Melinda stared at him for a long time, feeling a sell of appreciation for the old man. She placed her hand on his and bowed her head. “Do you think my mother would grant me the same clemency her parents gave to her?” she asked without looking up.

“You will only know if you ask.” The man stood and brushed his fingers over her head. “I should expect you would like to pray for a time, else we could have stayed in my office, yes?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.” Melinda had tears in her eyes, but she looked up at the old man nonetheless with a happy smile. “Thank you for your guidance at this time.”

“You are very welcome my child,” he replied. “You may seek my guidance whenever you require. Be well.” The man bowed and stepped away, his shoes clicking on the hard stone floor.

Melinda waited until he had gone then stood and walked down the center aisle between the pews, kneeling when she reached the end. On the wall in front of where she kneeled was a large crucifix, the carved wooden embodiment of Christ hanging from it in disturbing detail.

Melinda pulled from beneath her scarf her rosary, and its beads clicked as she pulled it gently off over her head. She held it between her hands as she clutched them together; the cold stone was becoming painful beneath her knees, but she powered on.

“Forgive me, oh God, for I have sinned,” Melinda spoke quietly, though her voice still echoed off the empty chamber. Her throat felt tight with tears, and one slipped down her cheek, hot and wet. “I have elevated the pride of one day ruling above that which You give unto me.” Another tear fell. “I have so great a love for Calypstica, but dear Father,” she looked up at the crucifix and allowed tears to fall fast down her cheeks as she choked out the rest of her thought, “I have so great a love for Jim. Guide me, Father, for I know not what to do.”

She released her hands, rolling the wooden beads between the fingers of her right hand and thinking hard. She stared up at the statue of Christ for a long time without rising to her feet.

“Amen,” she whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

The grounds had finally warmed away the slick mud and wet grasses, and the air beyond the manor was fair and slightly sultry from the light rains the day before. Melinda wore her formal riding gear: a tough linen dress with only a kirtle, no stays, brown and sensible and not at all glamorous; dark, tanned leather riding boots with short wooden heels; woolen stockings; hair tied back in a long plait which ran over her shoulder.

Simply put, she felt like any other working person, even if she knew that the reality of her station was so incredibly different. In her hand she held a three-fingered glove: this she would use when shooting her bow. For now, she stood beside her horse and stroked gently down his mane, waiting for the rest of her party and her gear to arrive.

The clip-clop of horseshoes over softened dirt made her turn; she found herself staring up into the dark blue of Jim’s eyes. He’d changed from his Sunday best as well and was wearing riding clothes she had never seen: sturdy linen breeches, hard-soled boots, a simple cotton doublet covered by a thick, leather jerkin. He wore a flat cap, which he tipped in her direction.

“Good morning, my lady,” Jim said as he slid gracefully off his horse. He landed beside her and kept one hand on the reigns, although the horse showed no sign of moving. Melinda curtsied and looked around when he slid his fingers around her wrist, his thumb pressing gently into her palm. “Mass was pleasant this morning, was it not?”

“Yes, a sermon on the love of God is always a welcome addition to the typical repetitions,” she replied, thinking back to how she had she’d felt the Archbishop’s eyes on her throughout the mass. His words seemed to have a second implication, even if their forward meaning was direct enough. She felt herself forcing a smile as a footman strode quickly down the stairs. The servant paid Jim and Melinda no mind, but still, she slipped her hand from his grasp and whispered hoarsely, “what are you thinking, Jim? We are out in the open...”

“I wish to see you tonight, my lady. If at all possible,” he said, a smile still painted onto his lips.

“I cannot, you know this. After the hunt there will be no time before we retire to our quarters,” she replied sternly.

“So after you retire, come and see me,” he coaxed, stepping closer. His smile was roguish, and even as her nostrils flared indignantly, she still felt a warmth spread through her like fire as they stood close together.

“Jim, you are incorrigible,” she said, placing her hand gently but firmly against his chest. “Perhaps. I will send one of my ladies if I am able, but do not wait up for me.”

Jim bowed his head once more, though not before winking slyly at her. “I look forward to the hunt,” he said as he stepped nimbly back up onto his horse. “I will see you out there, my lady.”

Melinda sighed and shook her head in annoyance as he rode off, leaving her with a hot wetness between her legs and a burning in her gut. She turned back to her horse. “You would never treat one of your ladies so rudely, would you Principle?” she whispered to her steed. The horse snuffed and nickered, turning its long face towards her. “I did not expect so.”

A throat cleared behind her and a footman presented her with the long, wooden bow her father had carved for her when she was a girl and a long sheath of impressively fletched arrows. She accepted them both and inclined her head as a thank you. The sheath was slung over her chest, a thick band of corded, braided rope holding it in place, and the bow was slung over her shoulder so she could shove her hand carefully into the glove.

She stepped around her horse and onto the first stair of the manor, braced herself against Principle’s saddle, and pulled herself up, slinging one leg over the side before settling gently onto the worn leather and handling the reigns of her brindle with her off-hand; the cool of the leather against her thighs made her stand in the stirrups, and she tucked her skirts between her legs after glancing around surreptitiously. 

“Melinda!” came her mother’s sharp, chiding tone, and she groaned internally.

Never was she meant to mount the horse on her own, and she knew her mother had seen her issues with her skirts.

“Mother,” she said, meeting her mother’s eyes at the top of the stairs. “I apologize, I know it is indecent-.”

“Nevermind that,” Beth said, taking the stairs carefully. She stood a few stairs up, just above where Melinda sat on Principle’s back. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful. It has been a long while since you shot your bow.” Her mother's eyes raked over her. “I do not need you hurt before the wedding.”

“Of course,” she nodded and swallowed hard. “I will do my best.”

A few of the other hunters rode up, tipping their heads as they made contact with her, and bowing in earnest - or as much as they could while remaining on horseback - when they saw her mother as well. Melinda grinned. This was what she was good at, what she’d been waiting for. Today was going to be a very good day.

* * *

Melinda and Edward rode side by side at the head of the pack of hunters down a two-horse path in the dim woods. It was just past high noon, the sun still high in the sky and the smell of pine tickling her nose. She looked over at her fiance, still feeling frustrated from the strange, strained conversation they’d had the day before and his unprompted, unsolicited kiss in the garden Thursday evening.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Jim watching her, his body swaying easily with the movement of his horse. It wouldn’t do in front of all the men of the court to be as aloof as she had been in days past with Lord Edward but felt unsure how her actions would be interpreted by the man himself in the future.

“What are we looking to catch today?” She asked, fiddling the reins between her fingers.

She didn't really even need to hold on - Principle knew the way through these woods effortlessly, and her trust in the steed had her knowing she could ride comfortably without the risk of being bucked or thrown. Still, it gave her something to do that wasn’t waiting idly for the next available squirrel, rabbit, or game fowl.

“Whatever my lady love desires, that is what we will get,” he said with a smirk.

“So, if I wanted to catch a bear, you would find one?” She asked, laughing incredulously.

“And gut, skin, and cook that bear to your heart’s content, my lady,” Edward replied.

She knew he was teasing, that not only would a bear be treacherous to run across, but silly to try to kill. She laughed and waved his comment away. He held up one hand and she yanked gently on the reigns, stopping Principle with only a soft huff.

The rest of the party slowed with gentle woo’s and tugs against bridles. Melinda removed her bow and slid an arrow out of the sheath carefully, notching and drawing it back. 

“Steady,” Edward whispered, holding up one finger.

As they waited, a buck, full with antlers stretching towards the midday sky, walked across their path lazily, his eyes scanning the hunters with dubious regard. Melinda released the arrow and it sank through the neck of the beast, sprawling it across the ground. Edward jumped down and slit the deer’s throat to finish the job, then raised his hand and whooped loudly.

Melinda grinned. Her first kill of the season and she’d downed a full-grown deer. The men behind her cheered and rallied, and when she looked back to find Peeta’s face, it was beaming with pride, though something else that she couldn’t quite make out bubbled just below the surface, unhappy but nearly undetectable. She brushed it off as a misperception and smiled brightly back at him.

“That will not be enough, of course, for the whole court,” she said to Edward as he stood beside her horse, waiting for two men to heft the fallen buck into the wagon attached to two of the horses.

He shook his head. “No, but one of us had to fell the first kill for the rest to head out on the hunt.” He turned back to the men. “Split ways, though as many can stay with us as they please.”

A few of the men broke off from the party, Ned and a few others from Edward’s small court of men included. Left behind were them two, Jim, her uncle Sam, and three hunters from the Gordon court, plus the cart for the game they killed.

He wrapped a hand gently around her ankle, one finger fiddling against the laces there. “My men carry game bags,” he said softly. “Hopefully no one else fells anything so big as yours again.”

“Hopefully not,” she said, gazing kindly down at her fiance. “I am not one to wish myself outdone.”

Edward jumped back onto his horse without much struggle, and they both clicked the reigns, heading back down the path. She watched him for a while, his broad shoulders jumping as the horse trotted against the dirt road. He was handsome, yes, but not overly so. His dark features made him more brutish than calculated, and she found the resemblance between them startling, rather than warming.

He caught her staring at him and frowned slightly at her. “What is plaguing your mind, my lady?” he asked, steering his horse closer to hers.

“Nothing,” she said with a quick smile. “Just thinking.”

“What about?” He asked.

“All sorts of things,” she replied, looking back down the road.

Her ears perked up as she listened for sounds aside from the clacking of her horses’ shoes, and saw a quick rustle in the brush above her head. With lightning-fast speed, she sent two arrows flying. This time, one of her men hopped down to search, pulling up a twice skewered falcon with a grin.

“Congratulations, my lady,” said the man with a smirk. “Were this a competition, I think you would be set to win.” He yanked the arrows loose and wiped the slick surface off on a long cloth attached to his breeches at the waist before handing them back to her.

“We could make it one,” he said sarcastically.

“You would lose, my lord, handily.” She replied.

“And who told you of the deer?” He asked.

“Who felled it?” She countered, eyes narrowing at him.

“Who slit its throat?” He asked again.

“You are crude, Lord Hawthorne.” She grimaced and looked away.

“You take no pleasure in knowing we, together, felled something weightier than the two of us combined?” He scoffed. “It must have weighed at least twenty stone, if not more.” He looked her over. “You could not weigh more than seven.”

“And rude!” she said, laughing. “Crude and rude and unhumbled for a man of your stature, my lord.”

“Lord Sam, assist me,” he called back over his shoulder. “Or Mister Clancy. Were you to give credit to the felling of the buck, whom would it go to?”

Sam shook his head. “I am inclined not to answer, but should I be forced I would give the credit to my niece.”

“And I to Lady Melinda, as well,” Jim said, avoiding her eyes.

Edward rolled his and turned back forward. “I see the tides have turned against me without my men to assist me,” he grumbled as he snapped his reigns and headed ahead a bit, leaving Melinda to choose whether to catch up or stay behind.

She glanced back at her uncle and Jim once more, both deep in conversation with each other, and hurried to her betrothed’s side. “Edward,” Katniss said, glaring at him. “Pout no more, it is unbecoming of you and does not look kindly on me.”

“I pout not, my lady.” Edward was aiming his bow at a turkey only moments from taking flight.

It fell with a thwip of the arrow and a squawk, and he clapped softly to him, smiling sincerely. One of the men on the cart retrieved the turkey. They were making good progress. Further catches such as these, and they would have enough meat to feed the court for the rest of the week - should no one complain about dried or smoked meats.

* * *

As Jim watched the Lady Melinda and Lord Edward banter and shoot idly, not always catching what they shot at, he was hit with a powerful wave of guilt. It bubbled hot and heavy in his chest, and he was uncertain where it had come from in the first place.  Edward was never the one he felt sorry for, he knew that, so was it Melinda towards whom he felt the shame of his actions?

His conversation about the painting with her uncle Sam had petered out, which he honestly preferred, as it gave him time to consider his situation.  Who was he, a painter, to have an affair with the Lady of Calypstica? Who did he really think he was

Jim could see the friendship - though perhaps Melinda was right when she said her feelings continued to withdraw from Edward. He could see the way she engaged him - closed, calculated, expectant. All ways she’d approached him their first days together. All reversed now.

He still couldn’t help but find the situation desperately challenging on his psyche. He loved her. He loved Melina more than he’d ever loved any woman, that was undeniable but wished it could be under different circumstances.

He wondered if, in a different time and place, they could love each other freely and unencumbered by this miserable situation they found themselves in. He would sweep her away and marry her.

But even thinking about that he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He felt dirty and unclean for the thoughts that plagued his mind.

Even if there was no reason, even if the love between the pair was absent… he felt as though he was breaking a bond that had been long established before him. And that cut him deeper than anything.

* * *

There was a knock on Jim’s door late, long after supper had ended and Melinda had retired from her mother’s room. The lady was anxious, antsy, restless, and had sent her lady’s maid Holly on this errand, knowing full well the consequences.

He answered a long minute later, his smock untucked from his breeches and his hair sleep ruffled. He rubbed his eyes and frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Holy shook her head. “Lady Melinda wishes to attend you if you will have her.”

“I would,” he answered, yawning tiredly. “But the hunt exhausted me. It has been a long time since I rode a horse. Will she understand, or…”

The young woman knew his meaning exactly and smiled. “I believe she was attempting to follow up on a conversation you may have had earlier,” Holly clarified. “If you are too tired, I’m sure that her ladyship will understand.” The woman turned to go.

“Holly,” he said, voice low as he reached out to grab hold of her shoulder before she could try to leave just yet. “One moment, please.”

The lady turned, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, Mister Clancy? Is there something you need?”

“How do you do it?” he asked, eyes pleading.

Holly looked him over and knew precisely his meaning, and felt that self-same surge of guilt she always felt when she thought of her infidelity with Lord Edward. “I… when you love someone, Mister Clancy, you make yourself forget.”

With that, Holly paced back to Melinda’s chambers, leaving Jim in his doorway, staring up at the ceiling. He shook his head and closed the door. He wasn’t sure he could forget this guilt.

* * *

“Mister Clancy wishes to be alone for the evening, my lady,” Holly said when she entered Melinda’s chamber a few minutes later. “He says the hunt has exhausted him. He sends his apologies.

She was tucked further beneath her blankets, cozy but frustrated. “A good hunt will exhaust even me,” she said with a giggle. “Though Holly there is something that I must ask something of you.”

“Anything, my lady,” Holly said, settling on the edge of the bed beside her. “How can I be of your service?”

“We have had this agreement for a bit of time now, where you distract Edward and I am able to pursue these emotions with Mister Clancy… whatever they may mean...” She explained simply and the young woman sitting beside her inclined her head in agreement. “I have a request: should your feelings change, or anything new appear before you in your relationship, you must alert me at once.”

“If you wish,” Holly said, “it is what I will do. I want nothing more than to help you if you will let me, milady.” The young lady’s maid blew out the candlestick that was lit beside her bed. “I will be in to help you dress in the morning and we can speak more on this topic then if you wish.”

There was nothing left to say, thought Melinda as she slipped quietly into the grasp of sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

The painting was dry enough to continue, so when Melinda attended Jim’s chambers the next morning, he tried to stay focused on the task at hand. The quiet between them was easy, their bellies were still pleasant from bird and venison, and she watched him with a curiosity he hadn’t seen before. It was calculating and judging, very nearly demanding.

Only when Melinda spoke did he understand why. “Jim, I tried to attend you last night, but Holly said you turned her away,” she murmured.

“I was so utterly spent from our ride yesterday, my lady,” he replied. “My muscles are fatigued even still this morning.” He chuckled. “I would have been a boring companion.”

“I would have been happy just to sleep beside you for some time,” she said, so nonchalantly he almost dropped his paintbrush.

“My lady, what if-” He began until she interrupted him.

“The only member of court I still concern myself to worry over their opinion of me is my mother,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Jim cleared his throat and tried to force a laugh. When he looked at her next, he knew he’d been caught out. “Jim, is everything alright?” She asked.

“I feel at a loss,” he said, pausing his work. “But I would like to have this conversation with the colors on your garment finished if you would not mind.”

Melinda furrowed her brow but nodded anyway and settled more comfortably in her chair. “As you wish. We may continue whenever you are ready,” she muttered. 

After some time neither of them was quite sure how the argument had started and whose fault it was. Jim had set down his paintbrush and said, “your relationship with Lord Edward could have been a good one, and I feel responsible for its demise,” before grimacing at the look of hurt and shock reflected on Melinda’s slight features.

When her response was bitter and terse, his hackles had immediately raised in defense. They’d yelled and paced and stood now at the table, silently glaring at each other, not sure what to say. When Jim spoke after a long silence, it was low, pleading, and very nearly dangerous in tone.

“I know not how, but I find myself hurting from our actions,” he said, sparking anger across her face. “I know not what your intentions with this affair are-”

“You are correct, my lord, you do not know my intentions,” she interrupted angrily, “but I promise they were never to injure you or to cause you any pain.”

“Then what? If you will not call off the wedding, why do we play these games with each other?” He asked.

“Do you understand nothing, Mister Clancy?” Melinda’s tone was condescending, shrill and volatile as she went against calling him by his first name. “I am not permitted to go against this marriage without cause-” She broke off with a frightened look on her face when Jim slammed a fist down onto the table. Their china clinked and rattled, his brushes rolling back and forth from the action.

“He has seduced and slept with your best chambermaid for years, insulted and insinuated against you - your uncle tells me he tried to move the wedding to the day of your arrival here - is the list not long enough for your mother?” Jim’s raised voice seemed incredulous, and he straightened as he continued. “I should have hoped the contentment of the future Lady of Calypstica should be as important as hers was - why should she have been permitted to marry whomever she pleased, whomever she loved?”

“Her marriage was permitted because she was the only heir, love be damned.” Melinda’s palms smacked against the table, mirroring his reaction.

“It-” He stuttered, shocked nearly into silence. He watched a blush grow up Melinda’s cheeks at the realization of her words. “It was not because she was in love?”

Melinda shook her head. “She was the only heir,” her voice was barely a whisper. “And I am not the only heir in my family, Jim. If I walk away from this marriage, my mother may name Katherine as her heir and force her to marry Lord Edward. I would never put my baby sister in that situation.”

“But you are in love?” He asked, his tone equally quiet.

Melinda nodded. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “And how I do love him… the man whom I love.”

“Tell me of him,” he said, starting to walk around the table towards her, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. The sudden shift in mood should have been jarring, but it was amenable, kind, expected.

“He is kind,” she said, stepping away from Jim, rounding the table in the opposite direction, a smile pricking the edges of her lips. “His smile is as nothing compares. His face is a piece of the sky. He is beautiful, with dark hair and eyes like the sea.”

“I have never been to the sea,” he remarked. Melinda dipped her head and continued backing away from him, fingers trailing over the rough wood of his table, skimming his papers and charcoal pieces. “Were you to marry him, this man you love, would you show him that which you say his eyes are so like?”

“And much more.” Melinda and Jim stood at opposite ends of the table again, staring at each other from their switched positions.

He placed his hands on the worn wooden surface and leaned towards her. “And this man-”

“He is quite a man,” she teased, a laugh sparking within her words.

“Yes,” he laughed, “were you to say, kiss him, how would that feel?” His eyes watched her hungrily as she reached up to undo the first hook and eye on the front of her shirt. Her bosom heaved with the effort of restraint as she swallowed hard, preparing her answer.

“It is as nothing that I have ever felt,” she replied, unhooking another few loops. “But, of course, this is all presumptive. I could never marry this man, and of course, I could never kiss him.”

“Of course,” he said, licking his lips as she finished removing her shirt.

Melinda wore merely a shift beneath it, through which he could see the pert tips of her dark pink nipples; she laid the shirt over the back of a chair in front of her. She slowly pulled at the ties on her skirt and snaked the skirt down her hips to step out of it, laying it gently over the table. She stood before him in only her thin, linen underdress.

Jim’s eyes raked over her. “Melinda,” he whispered. “Oh, you are so beautiful.”

She watched him, heat pooling in her belly. She toed off her shoes and walked towards him on silent, stockinged feet. His hands took in them her face, and he pressed his lips to hers with crushing force before he wound his hands down and around her waist. He lifted her off the ground, only just, but enough to make her gasp so he could snake his tongue into her mouth. Her hands came to grip his shoulders, and she clutched at him as they kissed.

“God help me,” he whispered as they broke apart. “You will be my undoing.”

The repetition of the words from their first kiss solidified Melinda’s choice, and she sighed in longing. “Come to bed with me.” It wasn’t a question or a command, but a statement, a request. “I wish to share a bed with you as we should’ve in the beginning… even if it is only once. It was silly to go to the garden, that I see now.”

He knew he could refuse and she would understand, that there was too much risk involved in undressing totally and climbing between sheets, that being caught naked would be the end of his career and possibly his life. But he looked at Melinda, her eyes shining brightly at him, and the no he wanted to tell her caught in his throat.

He nodded and let her drag him back to his own bed. Once there, he let her unbutton his smock and untie his breeches. Her small hands grazed over the cloth that covered his already semi-hard cock and he moaned, head falling back at the sensation. She unbuttoned him the rest of the way until he stood naked in front of her with his pants around his ankles. She smiled.

“Miss Gordon,” he teased, stepping out of his pants while toeing off his own shoes. “There seems to be some misunderstanding about the wardrobe here, it seems you are still fully dressed.”

Jim’s hands found the edge of her shift and he pulled over her head; she yelped and giggled as the cool air hit her skin. His eyes scanned her with a sort of reverence she’d never seen before. Melinda blushed and grabbed his hand, saying nothing as she pulled him onto the bed. He hovered over her, resting on his elbows; one hand came to brush errant hairs off her face.

“Forgive me for my sacrilege, but heaven must be glorious if you are this beautiful.” He said softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

She breathed him in deeply. “You are too kind. I love you, too,” she whispered, her whole body a mess of tingles and hot skin.

He kissed her; their chests brushed together and she moaned as their skin finally touched. This would be their third time making love, and the first time they had truly shared a bed and she would see him naked. 

It would be unacceptable not to make the most of it.

Using all the strength within her, she flipped them by catching Jim off guard. His eyes grew round and wide, and he gasped out a stuttering breath. She rolled back, sitting over him, so his erection pressed against her mound, the length of it sat firmly beneath the spread of her legs.

Melinda watched him, watched his fingers twitch in desperation to touch her, and she pulled his wrists up to her hips, pressed his fingers into the bare flesh there. It wasn’t enough for either of them. Every inch of her skin crawled with lust, with a nearly violent need for his flesh against hers. A shift of her hips sent waves of pleasure running through her and struck a match in his eyes, so the blue burned into her, bright and mesmerizing.

He moved his hands to her breasts and cupped them; the calloused palms felt as though they were made for only that task as they fit perfectly in his hands. Melinda ground her hips purposefully this time, with force against his member, and he moaned low, lids fluttering against the sensation.

“I want you,” she whispered, hands finding the flat plane of his pale chest and digging in, nails biting gently into the skin. “Jim.”

“Take me,” he replied, hands slipping onto her back to pull her down. He whispered against the shell of her ear. “I’m yours.”

Melinda already feral want grew more animal, and she reached between her legs to adjust him, pressing down on it with a hiss and a wince before rolling into the feeling of him inside her. She moaned, rolling a few curse words off her tongue and nesting her face against his neck while her hips slid up and down him and he filled her.

“Shh,” he said, more a moan then a shush, and he palmed her ass as he lifted her, his knees raising so his heels could find traction against the slick silk sheets.

This was hard and fast and different than both other times; she whined quietly into Jim’s ear, trying to keep her tone down. When she felt herself on the brink she gritted her teeth and pressed her face harder into his neck, curling her hands into fists in his sheets, trying desperately to cum quietly.

“Ah,” he gasped as he came moments later, “Melinda.”

Holding each other, she let herself slid off him, curling against his sweat-slick skin. Her eyes roved his face, and a small smile slipped onto her lips. “I apologize for hurting you if I did,” she whispered, reaching up to push sweat-soaked curls off Jim’s forehead. He shook his head and nuzzled into her touch.

“Your love is worth whatever pain I face in the future, Melinda,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She felt conflicted now because as well as she knew she had to, the last thing she ever wanted to do was to let him go. “Jim,” she whispered. “When you said, before all of this, that you would marry me… did you mean that?”

“Every word, my lady,” he said, his lips still pressed against his forehead. “Every word forever.”

* * *

Sam found Melinda in the garden a few hours later; she was now properly dressed and trimming a rose plant with the help of one of Edward’s expert gardeners. He cleared his throat to get her attention and she jumped at the sound.

“Uncle,” she murmured, blushing as she smiled graciously. “How nice of you to come and see me. Is there something you need?”

He tipped into a perfunctory bow. “May I have a word with you, my lady?” Sam asked, more formal than she commonly knew him to be.

“Of course,” she replied. “Shall we walk?”

Her uncle inclined his head in agreement and looped her hand over his arm. “It is not expressly permitted, what I am to tell you, and I beg you not repeat it,” Sam said as they meandered through the garden. 

Melinda hummed politely instead of responding, glancing nervously around. What could her uncle possibly have to tell her that was so urgent and private?

Sam’s tone lowered to a muted whisper. “I received correspondence from your cousin Maysilee, concerned for your wellbeing.”

“I see,” she said, pulling them down an unoccupied aisle. They slowed their pace dramatically and she pretended to be involved in a particularly cumbersome group of roses. “What was her concern?”

“You see… she has been writing to your lady’s maid for some time, it seems they were childhood friends… and well,” Sam cut himself off and stopped them. “I feel strange, speaking ill of someone so young, but she seems to have developed some form of idolatry for your fiance,” he paused again and turned to face her.

Melinda, who looked away quickly, unable to make eye contact with her uncle. “Is there something being left out?”

She quickly considered the secret her uncle just revealed and wondered if she could trust him. “Tell no one of this,” she said, pulling her uncle back along. “But Holly and Edward are having an affair.”

“How-” Sam stopped them again, looking at his niece crossly. “How long have you known, Melinda?”

“It does not matter,” she said, brushing off his question with a wave of her hand. “I have it taken care of.”

“Why have you not informed your mother? Canceled the wedding?” Her uncle had more questions as he crossed his arms, his foot tapping fastly against the stone ground.

“I need not punish my friend the way my mother punished you and your love, uncle,” she said blithely. “I have spoken to Holly on this matter. You need not worry.”

“Melinda, you do not understand,” he replied tersely. “My sister- your mother did not- I was not meant to be the Lord Consort. That is all I have to say.”

“It is my duty to be married, uncle, who else do you propose to take up the role?” she scoffed.

“A man who will honor and protect both you and the land you will hold!” Sam stopped them from walking again, anger in his eyes. “The pride of marriage to you is not meant to go to a man who would throw himself around, especially not to a woman who would send messages of her undying love in such unsure post.”

She balked. “Is that what Holly said? Undying love?” she choked out. “She said such to my cousin?”

Sam bit his lip and swore. “I meant not to tell you. I knew it would only draw your ire,” he muttered.

“You meant to keep it from me?” She could feel her anger beginning to boil and struggled to keep her tone under control.

“Melinda,” he said, plowing forward and ignoring her outburst. He wrapped her hand around his arm again and turned them back towards the main walkway. “You must stop this affair before your mother discovers them, or it will be her wrath they will have to contest with, rather than yours.”

“Allow me to read this correspondence, uncle,” Melinda insisted, holding her hand out.

“No, Melinda. I absolutely will not,” he said with a shake of his head. He paused - often, her uncle had the same inability to physically affectionate to those he cared for. Still, he managed to reach out and brush a hand gently down the side of her cheek. “You need to know no more than that woman is infatuated with Lord Edward, which you already knew, and that it is of my opinion that it be stopped.” He swallowed hard and bowed gently. “My lady, may your day be pleasant. I will see you for dinner.”

Melinda nodded and watched her uncle walk away. A break in trust, a break of their pact - that’s what this was. Ending the affair wouldn’t be enough, and revealing it to her mother would be the height of cowardice and idiocy. She needed to make Holly remember why it was ending.

* * *

Edward watched Melinda interact with his gardeners from the top of the stairs to the garden, his chin resting on his closed fist, elbow balanced on his knee.

It had taken him years to realize what was running through his head now: he would never be good enough for her. Not that Melinda had higher expectations for him, he’d crushed all of those when his relationship with Holly was revealed. 

It was more in his ability to be a good husband, his ability to be a good man; he was positive that he would never be able to keep up with her. She was such a lovely, good woman, and he was so depraved.

Edward stood and stepped back into the shadows: Melinda deserved better. If he was to marry her, he would have to learn how to be a good husband to her.

He walked over to his desk and poured himself a large glass of wine. With the anxieties on his mind, he finished the first glass and poured himself another. It was nearly his fifth glass that night and he swayed slightly where he stood, obviously past the point of sobriety.

There was a knock at his door and he took a spice before speaking, “Come in.”

Ned let himself in and bowed slightly. “My Lord, you sent for me?”

“What took you so long? That was nearly an hour ago,” he sighed, turning to face him slowly.

“I am sorry, your lordship. I must have received the notice to attend your room later than you had hoped,” Ned said quickly, the lie flying off his tongue quickly.

Edward knew better but didn’t care to fish in the boy’s business. He was most-likely entertaining the young Lady Katherine, who would never give herself to him in the way the young squire boy most-likely hoped she would.

“Anyway, I am in need of your loyal and discreet service,” he said sarcastically, chuckling at his own wit. “I wish to get my betrothed an early wedding present. Will you travel to the city to procure a piece of jewelry for me? You should be back in time for supper.”

“Of course, my lord. I am happy to be of service,” Ned said, stepping closer and holding out his hand.

He nodded. “Good. See to it that you bring it back quickly then,” he said as he gave him a piece of parchment that had all the information he would need to find the jewelry and procure the necklace. “I want to present it to Lady Melinda tonight.”

“Yes. I will see to it,” Ned said, bowing as he left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Melinda managed to hold herself together through dinner and into the evening, while she and Katherine played a few long games of checkers and their ladies watched. Each time Holly reset the game, she felt a hot shiver of anger tingle down her back. It was a miracle she made it to this point.

“I believe it is time that Lady Melinda settled in for the evening,” Holly said, eyeing her exhausted expression carefully. “She must make an early morning tomorrow if that portrait is to be finished in one week.” Melinda smiled at her girls as Katherine and her ladies said their own goodnights and swept from the room.

“Holly, will you assist me in my chambers tonight instead of Andrea?” she asked unnecessarily.

Holly nodded with a smile and they walked together from the Great Hall.

Once alone and upstairs, Melinda gripped her tightly by the wrist and stomped across the hall with her; the young woman hissed in pain but didn’t resist.

“Milady, what is going on?” Holly asked as she wrenched her door open.

Melinda threw her into her chambers and slammed the door behind them, her face a furious mask. Her friend’s own confused countenance blinked wearily at her, and she could practically feel the fear emanating off her. “I ask you one thing,” she said, swallowing hard. “After our agreement, I ask for you to be honest with me, tell me if anything changes, if your feelings adjust!”

“Milady,” Holly began, bringing her hands up in defense, as if guarding herself like a wounded animal, “I have been nothing but honest with you these few days. I apologize for my past discretions, but I swear I have kept nothing from you.”

“Lies,” she spat, striding forward, ignoring her friend’s defensive hands. “You love Edward, do you not?”

“I told you I did!” Holly said hoarsely, fear causing her voice to break.

Melinda’s slap across her face stung and left a sharp, red handprint, loud and terrifying. Holly gasped and brought her hand up to her cheek.

“YOU SAID YOU SUSPECTED YOU MAY!” She yelled. “This is not the same thing, Holly! Do you wish to marry him too? To bear his children as well?”

“I beg your forgiveness, Melinda, but you are wrong.” Holly leaned away as her hand curled into a fist and an inhuman noise left her. “I told you- I swear—”

“I should take this to my mother. I should have your title, his title, and have all of this end now.” Melinda’s voice was tight, hoarse, steaming. Holly’s face was coated in tears, strained and exhausted. She looked away from her, sighing as her fists white-knuckled against the foot of her bed.

“Do what you think is best, my lady,” Holly replied. “I would not blame you no matter your choice. I am at fault here, just as Lord Edward is.” Her friend’s forgiving tone, her seeming lack of care for herself infuriated Melinda beyond her current state, but it also confused her.

She shook her head, taking a deep breath. Was she overreacting? Why did it matter to her who loved Edward?

“Holly,” she said, tone low, still dangerous, but without the tinge of venom. “If you were in my place, what would you do?”

“My lady,” Holly said thickly, her voice quavering through her tears. “If I had the opportunity to be with him whom I loved freely, I would do everything in my power to do that.” Her sob broke through Melinda like ice, and she stepped back, confused and hurt with herself.

“I-” she said, watching Holly sink to the floor at the foot of her bed. “I am so sorry.” She moved more slowly now, one hand outstretched in surrender. When her friend looked up, it was not with loathing, as she expected, but understanding.

“It was never my intention to let it go this far,” Holly spluttered out, reaching out to grip Melinda’s fingers in her own. “I lost myself in it. In him.”

She joined her on the floor, the cold floorboards hard beneath her skirts. She let a tear slip down her face as she watched Holly continue to sob in earnest.

“I cannot marry him,” she said, her voice hollow.

Holly sniffed hard and wiped her face on the backs of her hands. “What choice do you have? Your fate is tied as steadily as mine is.”

“Katherine will make a better lady than I,” she whispered. It was all so clear to her now. Melinda had never loved Edward. She never wanted this, and her - seemingly obvious - wishes had been ignored, favoring a broken tradition and title over her own happiness. So her sister would be thrust a touch further into the spotlight. Wasn’t that, in truth, what Katherine had always desired? “I will abdicate. I will step away-”

“Milady, you cannot,” Holly tried to catch her eyes, which had become glazed and unfocused. “Your sister is still so young, but you have been in this role your whole life. She has only seen from-”

“Argue with me not,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’ve made a decision. I must speak with Mister Clancy about this.”

“But Melinda,” Holly said, biting her tongue when her firm gaze flicked over.

“Do you not wish to marry my fiance?” She asked and her friend stuttered under her severe expression.

“Do you really mean to abdicate?” Holly asked.

They both rose from the floor as once, and the weight of her outburst had her exhausted. Her friend’s cheek was still stained pink, and her hands shook with the residual nerves as she began undressing Melinda for bed.

“I wish not to marry Edward,” she replied. “And I wish not to have you hurting any more than has already been done. This seems the only option. My mother’s priorities have never been me.” Melinda sighed and shifted, allowing Holly to pull her arms gently from the long shirt sleeves.

An air of gloom settled between the women; if she were truly to abdicate, Holly would be placed as one of her ladies until Katherine came of age to have as large an entourage as she did. Holly would never be allowed to marry Edward - that would possibly besides if her sister were to marry him in her stead. 

Melinda knew also she would never live normally. Rumors of abdication from various countries always came with the sad stories of exile, ostracism, the fade from the only world she’d ever known. If it would keep her from marrying Edward, she would do it and if it would allow her to love Jim in peace, it would all be worth it.

“My lady, I urge you to think on this a while longer,” Holly said, “for all those involved. I know you wish to be free of this marriage, but,” her friend looked up from where she was bent over, absently unpinning her skirt. “Please think of those around you before you rush to a decision like this, but especially think of your sister.”

Melinda stared at her, at the warm blush peeling over her lady’s face, at the place where a bright imprint of her hand had been only moments earlier and bobbed her head in agreement. “I will think about this and seek further counsel.” She hissed as a pin stabbed painfully into her side. “I regret my anger with you.”

“I will not say it was justified, but I understand you, milady,” Holly said, tucking the handful of pins into her waist pouch. Melinda stepped out of her skirt and petticoat and breathed a sigh of relief when her stay was finally loosened over her lungs when she looked again at her friend, she noticed the woman attempting to steel herself for something unpleasant. “I could go to your mother in regard to the affair.”

“You will do no such thing,” she muttered. “I’ll not have you punish yourself for something I will so gleefully profit from. I wish it to leave your mind.”

“Of course,” Holly replied. She cast her gaze down as Melinda climbed into bed. “Whose counsel will you seek?”

“I know not yet. Mister Clancy first, I think, but perhaps my sister as well.” She whispered, shaking her head.

“Do you truly trust him?” Holly asked.

“As well as I feel I can trust anyone in this state,” she eyed her over. “I know of your correspondence with my cousin.” She tucked further into the blankets; a dark flush covered Holly’s chest. “Of course, you would not have known I could learn of it, so my anger was unwarranted, but I urge you to take caution.”

“I am aware of her restrictions in court,” Holly said, resuming her night chores. “I will take caution from now on, milady. I am sorry you saw my letter and my feelings so forthright… I truly am.” She drew the curtains shut, pulled the clothes Melinda would wear and refilled her washbowl.

“If I had my way, it would not be such,” she said.

“Yes, my lady,” Holly muttered.

Melinda noted the bitter undertone to her voice. “Speak your mind. Hide not from me.”

“Melinda, if you had your way, we would all be blessed. Married for love with your cousin back in the court after having a baby out of wedlock, and your engagement to Mister Clancy over Lord Edward. Everyone would fall in love and no one would have to ask whom to marry and when.” Holly huffed and shook her petticoat out roughly. “The world is an imperfect sovereign…” Holly’s eyes were filled with tears to match Melinda’s. “The Gordon court is no better and does not disguise its acts.”

She nodded; the bitterness and frustrations at the blatant disregard for unity had alarmed her at first witness, but she understood Holly more now, all these years into their bond.

She didn’t spite Holly for her feelings, nor did she feel any of the white-hot anger she’d felt the whole day through. If anything, she felt guilt, but most of all, pity.

“Do you trust me, my lady?” Holly asked.

She considered the question for a long time before answering. “No,” she said. “But not because you carried on an affair with Edward. It is because of your inability to be straight with me. Your hiding and lies have forever tainted my view of our friendship.”

She felt honesty would be better than lying to Holly or trying to save face. Everything about their relationship and her situation should have infuriated her, but it merely bored her. It was for children, these games and plans and backstabbing.

One way or another, Melinda would get out of this marriage to Edward. She just had to figure out how.

* * *

The next few days passed without any more mention about abdication from Melinda, but Holly still fretted over the idea. The dirty looks shot at her in the garden and over meals by Lord Sam Gordon told her all she needed to know of Maysilee’s betrayal of confidence.

Holly knew it would have been acceptable to feel hurt, even betrayed, but her heart wasn’t in the emotions she knew were appropriate. She spent Wednesday afternoon mending a pair of Melinda’s stockings and worrying over the lady’s decision making.

When the night came, she would have gone to Edward when his valet called, would have allowed herself to be summoned as Melinda wanted her to be, but felt too removed from him to try.

“Please tell Lord Edward his affection is appreciated,” she whispered, pushing the poem he had written back into Ned Banks’ hands, “but Lady Melinda has plans to ride tomorrow and I must be up to help her dress and layout her riding gear.”

A look flashed over Ned’s face, and for a moment it looked like pride or even pity. But when he turned and left, she shook the feeling away. It was her imagination playing tricks on her, the stress of the situation, the web of lies and tangled emotions eating at her ability to claim reality from perception.

Her worry wore on into the morning, leaving her with a stiff back from tossing and turning. It was exacerbated by Melinda’s secret smile and nod as she left. Fear prodded Holly. Would she really abdicate? Where would that leave her? Where would that put Melinda?

* * *

The portrait was nearly complete, drying before Jim could apply highlights and a varnish. His heart ached as Melinda looked at him across the long table while he gently cleaned the bristles of his brushes in a bowl of water. His fingers were stained from ochre and indigo, from the lightest yellow to every shade of green and the darkest blue.

It was so tempting to sneak a peek at the finished portrait, to look it over and count the places his hands had been. Melinda sat in her chair, however, watching his gentle fingers work the brushes clean.

“If I were to tell you we could be married, what would you say?” She asked offhandedly.

Jim choked while taking a sip of tea and frowned across the table at her. “I would be overjoyed,” he stated matter-of-factly, but still narrowed his eyes. “But how, my lady?”

“I may abdicate,” she whispered.

Jim set down his cup and stood, striding around the table. He looked down at her, and when she met his eye, his face was a hard mask. “You are not serious about this, Melinda,” he said.

“I am,” she replied and turned in her seat to face him. “It would permit us to marry.”

“And prevent you from the throne and ever living a normal life,” he sighed, shaking his head. “That is not what you want, Melinda.

“But I could marry you! That is the life I desire,” she protested. “I want to be with you.”

“But it is not the life I desire for you, my lady,” Jim said as he shook his head and kneeled beside her chair. “I want you all the happiness I can possibly grant you, but you would not be happy as merely a painter's wife.”

It was Melinda’s turn to stand, her chair squealing against the floorboards of his room. “You do not know what would make me happy, Jim.”

“I know that this is not it!” He yelled, losing his temper. He stood and began pacing the room. “My love for you as we are now is enough to sustain me. Why can it not be enough for you?”

“How can you ask that?” She retorted, her tone cold and brisk. “I am to marry a man whom I do not love and you speak as though that does not bother you.”

“It does!” He muttered, letting his shoulders relax as he ran his hands through his hair. “Melinda, I would rather die than see you marry him, but what is our other choice?”

“This! If I were to abdicate, I could marry you tomorrow,” she said beseechingly.

Jim shook his head. “I will not marry you should this be how it is done,” he replied as he shook his head and turned away from her.

“Then you lied,” she whispered.

“No, Melinda, I did not. I would never lie to you,” he sighed, turning back toward her and taking hold of her hands slowly. “If we weren’t where we are and there was another way, and if our lives had been… different, I would marry you in an instant.”

“You…” Her face fell when she realized the truth of his words. After a moment and a few tears rolled down her cheeks, her resolve hardened and he was already speaking again.

“It kills me to say this, Melinda, but I will not take away that which you have spent your whole life working towards.” His tone was quiet, but his words were still laced with anger.

“I want more than-” She began to insist.

“You cannot know what you have never been without!” He yelled over her, stomping across to Katniss and clutching her shoulders. His fingers dug almost painfully into her arms and her eyes were wide. He shook his head slowly back and forth. “You have never been a common person. You have always lived a life of luxury… one that I would struggle to give you. It is not luxurious or entertaining-”

“But I would be with you,” she was hoping to reason with him and brought her hand up to his cheek. “I love you… can you not see this?”

“I am not enough, Melinda.” Jim released her and stepped back, his teeth gritted; he knew he looked mad, with his rustled hair and eyes wide with fear and anger. Melinda’s own eyes were again running with tears and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “If you abdicate your place in Calypstica, it will forever tarnish our relationship. You will only see me as a reason you lost your status, rather than as a lover or a good husband.” He reached out, and she allowed him to gather her into his arms and press a kiss to her forehead. “I won’t be the cause of your unhappiness. If you will allow me, I would much rather make you happy these last few days we have together.”

Melinda pressed her face into his shirt and breathed him in deeply. He smelled of musk and turpentine and linseed oil. She nodded and pulled back. “I must go, for a short time,” she said, extracting herself gently from his embrace. “If you would join me and my girls for supper, I would be most honored. I am sure they would love to hear of those you have painted.”

“Of course,” he said with a sad smile. “Anything for you, my lady.”

Melinda felt a bitter twinge at the phrase and bit back the retort that sprung to her lips. She smiled up at Jim as she stepped away, trailing her fingers down his arms. “You will show me that portrait before my mother, will you not?” She asked as she stepped to the door, ignoring the thick tension that spread between them, new and not at all inviting.

He nodded, but couldn’t look at her. “It will be finished before the day is out, my lady,” he said softly. “I know you are meant to ride today. Go, I hate to leave undone work. I must finish.”

Melinda took this dismissal in stride, letting herself out of the room after hesitating briefly by the door. Jim was sorting through his pigments, finding the ones he needed to finish her portrait. He still wouldn’t - or perhaps couldn’t - look at her, and his face was flushed ann angry, blotchy red.

She looked down at her feet and closed the door behind her, then stepped into the hallway, chest tight with more unshed tears. She was confused and hurt as she made her way back to her chambers; she’d thought this was what Jim had wanted from her - she would have bet her life on it twelve hours ago.

Now, she questioned his loyalties, his love; their whole relationship was under duress. She was crying in earnest by the time she stepped into her room. Andrea sat beside the window reading a long piece of parchment and smiling a little to herself.

“My mother wrote, she wishes you luck in your union,” Andrea said, looking up at her. She furrelled the scroll closed when she saw her state. “Milady, what is-”

“He will not marry me,” Melinda wailed, too loud for Andrea’s comfort.

The young woman rushed forward as she collapsed by the door, her skirts cushioning her fall as she continued to weep into her hands. “If I abdicate, he will not marry me. I believe he has never wanted to.”

“My lady, I promise you this is not true,” Andrea said soothingly, trying to reassure her.

“How should you know?” She asked.

“Because Mister Clancy does not strike me as a man who would lie to receive a noblewoman as his bedfellow, Melinda.” Andrea’s tone was harsh, and it stirred Melinda from her state.

She sat up and stared despondently around the room. “I think I will not go riding today,” she sighed.

“Perhaps that is wise, my lady,” Andrea replied. “You can go tomorrow, but your mother wishes to join your company in the morning.”

Melinda nodded as Andrea reached forward and placed a hand gently on her arm. She looked at her, but her eyes were hazy, unfocused, and filled with unshed tears. “I would like to go home in two days’ time, Andrea,” she whispered and her eyes seemed to see for miles. “I grow tired of my time here.”

“Shall I inform your mother?” Andrea asked.

“Yes, and let Mister Clancy know I will not be holding supper in my chamber tonight. He may join tomorrow. One last large meal before we leave.” She explained as Andrea nodded and silently hurried from the room.

* * *

Edward knew some sort of bond was forming between Melinda and a mystery someone as soon as her scarves started disappearing and Holly began reappearing in his bed after she’d promised an end. He couldn’t fault Melinda, and if she was truly unfaithful, it was his fault, not hers.

Still, as he rounded the corner and saw his fiancee’s tear stricken face entering her bedroom, he knew something was off or wrong. Melinda hardly ever cried, least of all in the middle of a hallway where anyone could see her.

He sat in his own chambers now, tapping his quill against a thin sheet of parchment, trying to decide between writing the complex waves of emotion now rocking in his head or memorizing his promise to Melinda that would take place in only five days.  He swallowed hard and began jotting down ideas he had, promises he would make, trying to convince even himself that this lowly approach at betterment was the first step towards a happy union with his oldest friend.

A knock sounded at his door and when he turned, Holly was already stepping into the room. She looked weary, exhausted and belabored by the information that he knew she wouldn’t share.

“We are leaving the day after tomorrow, my lord,” she said, dipping into an unnecessary curtsy.

Her formalities told him that her presence was merely temporary, and more out of servitude rather than pleasure. He nodded and looked back down at his parchment.

“Has the lady changed her mind on the extension of our time here?” he asked, eyes moving back to her. Holly’s face was flushed as she nodded.

“She grows weary at being so far from home. I believe it will end the wait for your union,” she said. Her voice was controlled, though he knew that if he pushed hard enough, he would hear the waver.

“And of us?” He asked.

“We must end,” she replied.

“I… yes, you are right,” Edward admitted, though his chest felt tight.

She stepped forward slightly and watched him for another moment. “What do you write?”

“A promise to Lady Melinda. An atonement.” He sighed.

“I see,” she replied.

“I am sorry for us, Holly,” he said softly. “It was dishonorable of me.”

“As am I,” she replied. Her voice cracked and she held a hand quickly to her throat. “I must go, I have other news to carry. I simply thought it would be courteous to alert you of the changes.”

“Of course, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He said.

“Good day, Lord Edward,” Holly whispered and a tear rolled down her face and she swiped it away quickly, turning to the door. She was gone before he could respond.

Edward turned back to his note. A few tears fell on the paper as he read the most recent line to try to remind himself of his place:  _ If only I could have understood in advance the damage I may have caused you, I perhaps would not have carried on how I did. _

He took a deep breath and picked up his quill, dipping it again into his ink.

_ Your friendship has been one I truly cherish, even if, as you say, I do not know how I love you. Perhaps I don’t. _

_ These weeks have taught me well and hopefully with years, I can learn an make up for my mistakes. I could have done everything differently. I am truly sorry for all the pain I have caused you. _


	12. Chapter 12

Melinda couldn’t bear to sit alone, thinking about everything she’d done. Her heart pounded at the idea of being married to Edward- with what she knew of him, with her inability to see him kindly or want to share space with him, it was all but futile.

Even still, she would leave the manor the next day, and be married by the end of the week. She closed her eyes and paused her pacing to try and steady her breathing. It wouldn’t be so bad — it could not be nearly as bad as she was pressing herself to believe it would be.

They were friends, were they not?

She resumed her pacing back and forth in her room before she finally decided to leave and seek council. Her sister would have to do for now. The hallway was blessedly empty, and it only took a few moments for her sister’s lady Tabitha to answer the door. The girl smiled softly at her and gave a short curtsy before ushering Melinda into the room.

“I wasn’t expecting-” Katherine said, looking up slowly from the flowers she was sorting out to dry. At the sight of her grief-stricken face, her sister’s brow furrowed. “What has happened?”

Melinda sniffed and sighed. “Too much has happened.” She glanced back at Tabitha, who stood by the door as if waiting for her next words. “Leave us, please,” she said to the young woman, who nodded and quickly took her leave. She toed off her shoes and moved to lay on her sister’s bed, settling in and breathing gently against the pressure of her stay. “We leave tomorrow, instead of later this week.”

“I see,” Katherine whispered. “Why?”

“I wish to be home,” she replied.

“As do I. But, sister, it was not even a few days ago you seemed content,” Katherine asked softly. “What has changed?”

“The portrait is finished,” she said with a sigh. “I have realized my union with Lord Edward will be lackluster and convenient, so it is better to get the wedding over quickly and settle back into normal life.”

Her sister stood and joined her on the bed. Her head rested close to her shoulder, and she didn’t press the issue, merely waited for her to elaborate. When she stayed silent, Katherine tucked in closer, curling against her and closing her eyes. Before either lady knew it, they were asleep.

Melinda’s dreams were hazy and confusing, though when she woke blearily a few hours later, she recalled the soft breath and gentle timbre of Jim’s voice. Katherine slept on soundly beside her, and even through her stiff ribs from sleeping in her stay, she felt comforted by her sister’s presence.

Looking at the girl’s thin face, so youthful in sleep, she tried to remember what it was like to have Katherine’s innocence. Part of her wished she could return to the quiet before all the pomp and circumstance of turning sixteen and taking on the full responsibilities and feeling alone even when surrounded by people.

Melinda rose, desperate to rid herself of her stay and continue to sleep, but a soft knock on her sister’s door paused her actions. The door creaked open and Tabitha poked her head in.

“Milady, your mother would like to know if you and your sister will join her for dinner. She says she can hold the kitchen until you are both decent.” Tabitha’s face was soft and lined with concern.

Melinda swallowed thickly and nodded. It would not due to have the court think she was upset or despondent. “I will return in only a moment,” she leaned over and shook her sister gently to rouse her, then stood and attempted to straighten her sleep wrinkled skirt. Feeling suddenly awkward, she began to leave the room while her sister rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Melinda?” Katherine said sleepily, yawning as she sat up. “You must explain your reason for hurrying the end of our stay.”

She paused and glanced back at her sister, who was sitting upright now, brushing the tangles from her long, brown hair with her fingers. Both their gowns were sleep wrinkled, and her throat grew suddenly tight. “I can't,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder as Tabitha re-entered the room. “Present company aside, it is not wise.”

“I must know,” Katherine said firmly. “Please tell me, Mel.”

“Katherine, I-” She began.

“If you do not tell me, I will not come to dinner.” Katherine crossed her arms over her chest.

Melinda scowled at her sister, tempted only briefly to let her go hungry out of spite, but cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly before speaking. “I wish not to marry Edward. These last weeks have only reaffirmed this truth. I have grown fonder of another, as well. But the union would never be permitted,” she finished in a rush; Tabitha was gathering clothes from her sister’s wardrobe to help the girl dress before they went to dinner, and the young woman was doing an excellent job of feigning deafness as Melinda spoke.

“I see,” Katherine said, repeating herself from earlier in the evening. “And you have brought this development to our mother?”

“I did. She brushed me off,” she sighed.

“When?” Katherine asked. “And you directly said you wished not to be married to Lord Edward?”

“I thought the implication-” She began.

“I cannot believe this.” Katherine shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

At first, she thought her sister was crying, but after a moment it became apparent that she was laughing. Melinda pressed her tongue into her cheek and scowled. “I do not see what there is to be laughing over, sister.”

Katherine slipped off the bed and let Tabitha begin to undress her. “You,” her sister said flatly. When she looked confused, Katherine quirked an eyebrow up and rolled her eyes. “How can you expect our mother to know your needs without speaking them aloud to her?”

“I told her that I feared I would not be happy, and that I was feeling uncertain-” Melinda broke off at her sister’s withering look. “I had thought I’d made my needs clear!” She blinked blearily at her, confused and irritated by Katherine’s continued laughter.

Her sister shook her head as a new skirt was slipped on over her head. “Go and dress, sweet sister, but remember: our mother knows Calypstica because she spent time with it.” Katherine said and shooed her away.

Melinda stepped into the hall and walked to her room, ripping the scarf angrily from her neck as she did so. What were her sister’s words supposed to mean? And how was it not obvious what she wanted?

She sat on the edge of the bed, surprised she was already there and began to undress, too impatient to wait for Andrea to come and help her dress for dinner. She had no hope in her ability to maintain a professional discourse with Jim if it came up, and knowing her uncle, something would.

* * *

Three sharp knocks sounded in quick, loud succession and Edward opened his mouth; the door opened anyway, without waiting for his permission, and he turned to face his guest, already frustrated. Lord Sam Gordon stood in his doorway, a sharply calculating but seemingly benevolent look on his face. He rushed to stand, stooping in a bow as the man laughed.

“Stand up,” said Sam, “you needn’t do that with me. I am not my sister.”

He stood, confused and alarmed by the man’s presence. “Is there something I can assist Your Lordship with?” He asked softly.

“I merely wanted to know presently what plans you have for after your marriage to my niece.” Sam sat in one of Edward’s high backed chairs and glanced across the table strewn with miscellaneous objects. “A trip? For you and Melinda?” He picked up one of the quills, inspecting the feathers before replacing it on the table and turning his attention back to Gale. “Or are you thinking to begin attempts at children?”

“My lord, I know not if this is expressly appropriate without the Lady Melinda’s presence.” He murmured, casting a wary look around him. He leaned back against his desk, trying not to show his nervousness.

“Oh, the Lady will not mind. I’m her uncle and, as her father has passed, one of her only living guardians,” Sam said with an icy sneer. “Lord Edward, I have heard with much shock that you’ve committed adultery against my niece.”

He coughed in surprise, gripping the table as if he’d been stabbed. “From whom have you heard this?”

“From Melinda, your lordship,” Sam stood, his face a mask of cruel impatience. “You have options, however.” The older man continued across the room towards him. “Marry my niece and forget this whole affair, which I fear may be hard to do with her constantly at Melinda’s side,” Sam didn’t raise his voice, but the malice in it made him wish he had, “or end the engagement.”

“My lord, I cannot-”

“You can, with any warranted reason.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “It would not be especially surprising if the lady were to have fallen out of favor with you, given her demeanor and reputation in court.”

“I have not-”

“So you do care for her?” Sam asked.

“Of course I do!” He shouted, his anger flaring. “How dare you accuse me—”

“Then why hurt her so?” Sam snapped and he hadn’t realized the older man was carrying a large tome until he slammed it on the table. Edward could tell by the ornate decoration that it was a bible and he hated himself for what he knew was about to happen. “You have read the Bible, my lord?”

“I have,” he muttered.

“Then you know Exodus 20:14,” Sam told him.

“Thou shalt not commit adultery,” he sighed.

“And James 4:17,” Sam said.

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin,” he recited.

“Hebrews 13:4?” Sam asked.

“Let marriage be held in honor among all-” He began until he was interrupted.

“And let the marriage bed be undefiled,” Sam finished loudly. “For God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.”

“I am aware!” Edward shouted, stepping around the man to pace about the room. He looked up at Sam and then rubbed a hand over his face wearily. “I know of my sin and I repent daily, my lord. It is my- I am weak, I know it, I am sorry.” He bowed his head shamefully and sat heavily in a chair at his table.

“Apologies are not due to me, I take no great pleasure in reminding you of how an illicit union can break a man’s future.” Sam shook his head. “Apologise to my niece. She is hurting, I think, worse than you know.” The older man gathered his book and began to walk from the room. “And make a choice, my lord, before we leave tomorrow.”

“I shall,” he replied, looking up just in time to see Lord Gordon leave, the bible clutched in one hand and the other shoved his breeches pocket.

* * *

Jim was afraid for Melinda the moment she left his room. Talk of abdication - explicitly on his behalf - was not something he had expected from a woman who held her responsibilities in such high esteem. He paced, continued to pace for the hours after her departure until a light and short knock sounded at his door.

He cleared his throat, frozen in place as his heart had jumped and was raised at the base of his throat. Could it be Melinda? Had she come to talk again?

“Come in,” he said, then suddenly Holly entered with a sad smile and curtsied lightly. “Oh, hello.” His tone was clearly disappointed and he resumed his pacing.

“Mister Clancy, Lady Melinda would like me to inform you we shall be eating as a court tonight,” Holly said.

He nodded and swallowed. “I see,” he said softly. ”Is there anything else?” He understood that Melinda didn’t want the private meal because she was angry with him.

It was understandable. He would be angry if he was her.

“And,” Holly paused and looked him over as if silently judging him. “We leave tomorrow for Calypstica.” 

It was like a slap to the face, and he stopped pacing to look at the young blond woman, the hard mask of unsaid words slipping into one of bitter regret. “Tomorrow?” He asked desperately. “I- I was under the impression we would not leave until later this week.”

“Lady Melinda has pushed forward our departure,” she said and she didn’t elaborate, yet her expression told him everything he needed to know.

“Tell the lady we cannot part-" he said, striding towards her, his hands outstretched. “Tell Melinda that she must reconsider-”

“Jim,” she said, meeting him half-way. Holly placed her hands on his shoulders and shook her head. “I cannot. You should know as I know that love does not always have happy endings.”

“That’s not true,” he said, voice hoarse. “My father met a woman some years ago - their love is proof!”

“Of what? That only after death or half your life you will find a soul-mate who can have you?” Holly stepped back and let her hands drop. “Love does not have happy endings. It is not perfect or permanent, and it is always- always ripped away from you before you have had enough time to claim. Four years, two weeks,” she gestured between them, “it does not matter. It is never enough until you are old and grey.”

He swallowed thickly. “She will marry him, then?”

“And neither you nor I shall ever see our loves again because I fear she will promote me out of her rankings,” Holly said, blinking away tears. “I will be married off and-”

Tears broke through the wall she had put up as they did for Jim, and they both looked away from each other. There was no pretending that this didn’t hurt him deeply. This was never the solution he had wanted.

If he was being truthful, he’d hoped she’d stand up to her mother instead of running away; he could never take her life away from her. Even if he believed - which he did - that Melinda could do it, that it would be a challenge at which she succeeded, he would never do it.

All he wanted was for her to be cared for - a full stomach, a roof and never a question of her next coin, her next scarf or dress or shoe. At least at the court, he knew she would be cared for.

But he’d be damned if Melinda would marry Lord Edward James.

“Holly, you must tell Lady Melinda that I require an audience with her,” he said, his hands moving to grasp her wrists. The girl looked alarmed at his sudden start, at the frantic nature of his eyes. “Immediately, at once. There is a problem with the painting and it will not be done by tomorrow.”

“My lord, I-”

“Tell her, quickly! Go!” He was shouting now, a plan - a new plan, one far more direct and certain - springing to life in his head.

Jim would not play children’s games with Melinda anymore or try to spook her into disbelieving her love for him, or try even to trick her mind. As Holly sped from the room, he realized her rightness, how he knew love was fleeting and never lasting, and if he could only see Melinda one more time, he had to.

He just had to.

* * *

Melinda thought long and hard about the words Jim had passed onto Holly when she’d gone to tell him of the changed plans. She watched him all through dinner, and when she was unable to watch him, could feel his eyes on her, pleading, longing; it surprised her.

She’d thought his refusal had been one of selfishness, that he’d not wanted to marry her for reasons other than those spoken aloud. Every now and then she’d catch her uncle looking at her with a suspicious amount of kindness, and even Edward was looking at her with something unreadable and undefinable in his features.

Did everyone know something she didn’t?

“I would like to make a toast,” said her mother, rising from her seat in the center of the long table, which looked over the court from its raised dais. The whole court stood - Melinda reluctantly so - and raised their goblets. Beth turned to look at her, a prideful smile on her sharply calculating features. “To my daughter, Melinda! I wish to you a wonderful and prosperous marriage.” Melinda swallowed tightly and tried to pull a smile onto her face, feeling enormously uncomfortable. Her mother seemed none the wiser, however, and turned back to finish her speech. “Though our time here is coming to a rather quicker end than we thought one week ago, I feel that these three weeks away from the rush of Calypstica has done us all some good. We will return for the wedding with full hearts, rich stomachs, and happy minds. To Melinda!”

“To the Lady Melinda!” the court shouted together, cheering when the toast was over.

Some part of her knew she should have been happy at her mother’s pronouncement, at the pleasure she took in her future. Instead, Melinda’s eyes trailed to Jim, whose face was blank and his eyes stormy. He inclined his head politely to her and looked back down at his plate until Ned tried to strike up a conversation and his jubilant mask reappeared.

Holly squeezed Melinda’s leg under the table, leaning in close under the pretense of pouring her more wine. “Of Mister Clancy’s request to have your audience tonight,” Holly said, her voice barely audible as a whisper in her ear above the din of the dining hall. “What say you, milady?”

Melinda looked at Jim, catching him staring wistfully in her direction. She was reminded of the beginnings of their flirtation as his eyes flicked away and a blush grew up his cheeks. She pushed down the strong emotions burgeoning in her and nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “Briefly, I will join him after dinner.”

Holly nodded and sat back in her seat comfortably, a pleasant smile on her face - one that looked almost like success. “I urge you, milady,” her friend said, still a little lower than they would have normally spoken, “to speak to your mother again. It cannot hurt to press this.”

“It cannot, I know. I shall tomorrow over breakfast.” She speared a potato on the end of her fork and looked at the young blond. “Eat, we travel tomorrow, so fill yourself now.”

The girl grimaced and nodded, a smile dancing in her eyes and on the corner of her lips.

* * *

Melinda didn’t bother to knock - he knew she was coming. The worst that could happen would be if he were not there, that it was a trick - a ruse set by Holly, who she still wasn’t sure she could trust. But when she opened the door just a crack, Jim sat in her chair, candles all around him, working with tired eyes on the portrait of her.

She watched him for some time, not wanting to disturb his inner thinkings while he worked so hard on something Melinda would never want to look at again once she married Edward. He didn’t even look up when she sunk to the floor beside the chair, her head resting gently against his knee.

“You wished to see me?” Melinda said.

Her voice wavered with tears as she did, and they poured out of her when he stopped painting to pet one hand over her hair. Even though her tears were silent, they felt never-ending. It was unlike her to cry this much, but she feared she would never fall in love again.

“I have devised a plan,” he said, still without looking at her. “It may seem foolish or unwise, and you may even hate me for it.”

Melinda looked up at him through narrowed eyes, her voice quiet. “What is it?”

“Call off the engagement,” he replied, reaching down to pull her onto his lap.

Melinda shook her head as she settled there. “I cannot, I have told you this.” She sighed, sinking into his arms. “It is not that simple.”

“Why do you need to be married? You are healthy, and your mother is not thinking of stepping away from being in command, is she?” He asked and she shook her head, still irritated. “Then call off the engagement. Tell her anything - tell her you are not ready or simply do not wish to be married yet, that you wish to browse at court.”

“But I do not wish to browse at court,” she protested, sliding off his lap. Melinda stood with her back facing the portrait, could barely bring herself to turn to look at it. “I do not wish to be married or in love with anyone else, and I wish-”

“Will you allow me to finish?” He asked.

“No, I will not!” Melinda said, striding away from him to the center of the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, watching him sit impatiently in his chair, waiting for his turn to speak. “You speak to me as if I am a child - all of you, as I if I no idea the ramifications of my actions. I am not clueless, or birdbrained. I understand these things that I say and do. But you and Holly and my sister - all of you dismiss me, tell me I cannot or should not or would not survive.” She scowled at him. “I am not a child, Jim.”

“No, but you have been acting like one,” he replied shortly. “I know you are well aware of how abdication can hurt you, that you understand our relationship to be illicit and therefore dangerous, and that marrying Gale seems your only option, but you speak as a child speaks, in extremes and ultimatums.”

“I do not,” she muttered.

“You do, my lady.” He replied.

“Jim, I felt it was the only choice presented.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“More so than speaking again to your mother?” He asked.

“More so than having my emotions neglected by an absent parent!” Melinda’s tone was starting to rise, her hands shaking as her anger grew. “You know not what it is like to be raised for years without knowing your mother can speak kindly to you!”

“That I will agree with you on. My mother is a kinder woman than yours,” he said humorlessly as he stood up. “I want to marry you,” he said as he strode towards her, his socked feet silent against the wooden floor. “I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. I want to watch you take your mother’s place one day and our children’s births and give you all the art and love I could ever give you.” He stopped in front of her. “I want a life with you, one where I can see the sea and kiss you openly, where dances do not have to be done under the pretext of you teaching me.”

Melinda’s throat was thick again with tears as she stepped forward, placing her hands on his chest and spreading it out. “Believe me, I want that more than anyone.”

“I am not done telling you how much I want you,” he proclaimed. “Or how much I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, Melinda, but I cannot have you if you are to be married, and I will not steal away the care you-”

Melinda was kissing him before his sentence could finish. Her lips moved desperately against his, a danse macabre; if this was the last time she ever kissed him, loved him, touched him, she wanted to remember it.

Everything within her ached as they moved slowly - too slowly - to his bed; Jim wound his arms around her and pulled her onto him, unhooking the loops on her shirt so he could push it off her shoulders, her scarf falling away as he did so.

He caught it and tucked it in his pocket with a smile, one that was mirrored by her as she pushed him backward, straddling him in her long skirts. Her hair fell down like a curtain around their faces so that as they kissed, touched, and softly whispered the other’s name, all they could see was each other.


	13. Chapter 13

Beth cut off Melinda’s every attempt to bring up her wedding the next morning. She’d already tried four different ways, between asking if the castle would be ready when they got there, to saying flat out that her feelings for Edward had changed.

Each tact that she took was shot down, pushed aside, rolled over. And every time, Melinda had to rethink and rework her strategy. Perhaps if she were just to announce her wedding was off, that she wouldn’t marry Edward, that would get her mother’s attention.

As she opened her mouth to speak, her mother’s voice cut her off and Melinda snapped her jaw shut, her teeth clacking together loudly as she sighed in annoyance.

“I have some business I need to attend to before we leave today and I must oversee the packing of our rooms. Melinda, why don’t you go on your ride early?” Beth said as she turned and leaned toward the window. Her mother’s features scrunched up in disgust. “Do not go too far, it looks as though there may be rain. We don’t want you getting muddy and ruining your dress.”

Melinda nodded her head studiously and sighed before rising. “I need to speak with you, mother,” she insisted again as she slipped on her shoes.

“And I will be available on the carriage ride home, should I permit you to ride with me. Which of course I will darling,” Beth said with a wink.

Melinda rolled her eyes at the floor and nodded, curtsying before she left the room. Everything was about courtesies and formalities with that woman. The sky outside was indeed darkening by the time she got to the garden.

Storm clouds were rolling in on the grounds as she mounted her horse. Sitting on Principle, she felt relief from desperate longing to be released into nature, where she could ride her horse and be alone to think. Of course, she was never alone.

Even as she was assisted onto her horse by one of her own footmen, another rider, a man with a bow and sheath of arrows, was mounting just behind her, speaking quietly to one of the guards. She could feel eyes on her, and the knowledge that she was uprooting the whole court over a man burned hot within her.

“My lady,” the man said, riding up alongside her. “I’ll follow at a steady pace. Take your lead.”

Melinda’s snapped the reins and set her horse along in a light trot, bouncing in pace with the horse. Her escort fell back a distance, letting her have some space instead of attempting to make polite conversation as some of the escorts did.

She spurred her horse on a little faster, glancing momentarily over her shoulder. This pace was enough to set a firm distance between her and the man behind her; Melinda was trying to come up with a new plan with which to fight her mother on her marriage.

The horses reached the edge of the estate- Melinda steered her horse towards the woods, wanting to take the same path they took hunting. Her mind was so preoccupied she didn’t notice when the first few raindrops began to strike the ground.

“My lady, may I recommend returning?” Her escort spoke loud enough to hear her as he made his approach, not to startle her.

“A few more moments,” Melinda said over her shoulder and she steered her horse down a narrower path, listening to the rainfall on the leaves overhead.

Everything seemed far more still here than in the manor, where she knew the bustle of leaving would be well underway. It saddened her to leave this place, where she’d spent the happiest time of her life. How she’d fallen for someone so fast astounded her.

Jim’s clear blue eyes and sharp smile filled her head as the horse stepped into a clearing. Melinda made one turn with Principle and faced the path, planning to head back. A thunderclap sounded overhead, and she closed her eyes against the feeling of light raindrops against her skin.

“My lady, might we return now?” asked her escort.

Melinda sighed and opened her eyes, looking at the man who faced the opposite direction, his horse beside hers. For a moment she felt guilty for what she was going to do and then decided not to feel guilty at all.

If this was her last chance to act a child before standing strong against her mother’s traditional ways, she would do it. She inclined her head and clicked her reins, heading out of clearing at a slow pace. When she was halfway through and knew her escort had fallen back, she snapped the reins hard and leaned forward in Principle’s saddle; the horse shot forward, racing at top speed. Melinda clung tightly to the reins and looked back to see her escort try to match the speed, but fall back when he’d reached the garden.

She kept riding, looking out towards the large, open field and sheet of rain washing towards her. Within moments of being under the downpour, she was soaked. The sky was dark and the world around her was hazy. Principle whinnied in dismay, his mane slick against his neck. Melinda swung her ponytail over her shoulder and wooed her horse to a stop, tilting her head towards the rain.

She felt braver now than she ever had been. Her heart raced in her chest, faster than the hooves of her horse had struck the ground. Everything was clear - she would not marry Edward. It didn’t matter if her mother required her to, or if the court would see it unfit. Rules had been broken before; who was Melinda to try to amend her life to a set of archaic traditions even her mother saw as unfit?

Melinda took her time returning to the manor house, even though she shivered and shook under the cold water and her soaking dress. The storm was overtaking the estate. When she arrived at the backdoor, her mother stood aghast on the stairs, the front of her skirts wet. She slipped off her horse with help from a footman and mounted the first few stairs, tired and shaking.

Rain still poured hard behind her, and Beth’s confused, concerned face echoed back Melinda’s deepest fears, and guilt pierced her; what a silly time to act out. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead where it had fallen from its braid, and the edge of her dress was streaked with mud. The horse whinnied again, his head shaking back and forth; her mother ushered forward one of Edward’s footmen to take the horse back to the stable, while she stood looking at her daughter. Melinda’s teeth began to chatter.

“What did you think you were doing?” asked Beth, her voice trembling with anger, or fear.

Melinda pressed a hand to her forehead. “I just wanted some air, mama,” Katniss whispered.

Beth shook her head. “You’re soaking wet,” her mother said, “and I was- Melinda, I thought you’d run off, the escort said you ran off!”

She shook her head, but a fat tear slipped down her face. “I should speak with you in p-private,” she stuttered through her shivers. “B-but I fear I will not be able to express my feelings as they are now.”

“What is wrong, Melinda? Tell me now and tell me true,” Beth said as she stepped down the stairs.

Melinda looked at her, with her wide brown eyes and thin, firm lips, and she felt sadness for what she was going to say.

“I cannot marry Edward, mother,” she said as firmly as she could as her teeth chattered. “I will not marry him, mother.”

Beth frowned at the words. “You- what?” Her mother’s hand reached out to clutch her wrist.

“I cannot marry Lord Edward. I do not love him,” she repeated, shivering harder now. Winds swept through the grounds, carrying the rain with them sideways, so the water hit the women’s faces and dresses, and Melinda’s teeth chattered harder. “I cannot marry someone I do not love.”

“Melinda, the lady doesn’t always get to love her lord husban-”

“You loved my father when you married him!” She yelled, yanking her arm away. “Why am I subjected to this loveless union…. when you were permitted to marry a common man?!” Melinda backed up, moving out from under the stone covered back entrance, holding her hands out to her sides, palms facing the heavens. The gesture was not lost on her mother- Beth looked around at the small estate, the hedgerows, and the cracked stone pathway. “This is what you want for me?!” Her voice cracked with the strain of yelling, and she turned to face away from her mother. “You break tradition, break noble law, introduce common blood into our lineage, allow him to take our name - but you want this for me?!”

“Melinda,” her mother said, stepping forward into the rain. Its cold drops hit her face and neck, and she shivered but continued towards her daughter, whose sobs echoed over the grounds, loud and hard.

“You’ve never loved me,” she moaned, her voice a strained, anguished sob. “You never wanted me around, and this is why you want me married off and sent away.”

“That is not why, Melinda! Your father wanted you to be happy,” her mother explained, her hands gripping Melinda’s shoulders as she turned her. Their eyes met, and she could see that her mother was crying. “He thought you could love Edward, that your friendship would become- become something more than it is.” 

“I have never felt that way for him,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I tried… I did, truly. Until I learned of his affairs.”

A wail ripped through Beth like a knife wound. “You and I-” Her mother swallowed back tears; it would not do for both of them to weep. “We have never been close, but I would like for you to understand that I have always loved you.” Her mother stroked her face with the back of her hand, which Melinda leaned into. “I know, I should have known… I should have seen your distance from Lord Edward. Marry whomever you wish. Oh, Melinda, I am so sorry I put anything over your happiness.”

She leaned her forehead on her mother’s shoulder and shook with silent tears; Beth’s eyes welled with tears of her own, which fell quietly and without fanfare. They stood in the yard for a long time, with the rain pounding their backs and heads until Melinda’s shaking legs became jellied and they both stumbled inside, wet and exhausted.

* * *

His low, slow footsteps echoed down the hall as he made his way to the queen’s quarters. Edward’s presence had neither been requested or approved, but the tradition was already being broken.

He was paces away when Beth burst from her chamber, a frantic expression clouding her face. Her eyes found him in the hall, and she paused, frowning. A moment passed between them, one of fearful understanding before the woman finally spoke.

“My daughter has run away,” Beth said quietly.

He noticed her hands shaking. “When?” he asked in reply.

The situation was too calm for him. He wanted to run after her, convince her to return, promise that everything would be okay and could be fixed. But a dark, selfish thought formed in the back of his head, a whisper that couldn’t be ignored: wasn’t it partially his fault if Melinda truly had run away?

Beth shook her head and all thought Edward had of announcing the end of his engagement left his mind until the queen next spoke. “Had you any inclination that the princess was unhappy, Lord Edward?”

“I had some, my lady.” He sighed.

“What of?” she pressed.

It looked as though she might stride towards him, but the older woman stayed her ground, glancing over her shoulder at one of Edward’s valets, who stood between her and the entrance to the back stairs. He and Beth stayed a stone's throw away from each other, their worry ridiculously juxtaposed against the seeming calm of the manor.

“My lady,” he started, breaking off to think.

What would he say?

He wasn’t even sure of anything himself. He suspected Melinda was having an affair but had no proof; he felt that she did not want to marry him any longer, a feeling reaffirmed by Holly returning to his chambers three or four times since telling him it was ended. 

“I think she may have had a change of heart regarding the marriage,” he replied and watched realization dawn on her face, slow and sorrowful.

“Lady Beth!” yelled one of the guards, running down the hall towards her. “We believe Lady Melinda is returning!”

Edward had never seen the woman move so fast, hiking her skirts up and sprinting down the hall; he followed quickly behind, though he stayed within the manor, pacing in the shadows of the door. The rain pounded on the tiles of the roof, making it possible for him to listen to that while pacing back and forth, instead of Melinda’s slowly rising voice.

* * *

Melinda and her mother stumbled in faster than Edward had expected them to, soaking wet with tear-stained faces. When she saw him, she froze and squeezed her mother’s shoulder.

“You need to change, lest you fall ill,” Beth said softly, running her hand over her daughter’s hair before nodding to Edward and striding down the hall, her waterlogged skirts leaving a damp trail behind her. 

She watched him for a short while, her lip quivering. She wrung her hands and cleared her throat and was filled with such obvious discomfort that Edward stepped forward and gripped her upper arms tightly.

“I think we should not be married, Melinda,” he whispered; the relief that washed over Melinda’s face at his words was immediate and gratifying. She swung forward, catching him around the waist and squeezing him hard. “I will always care deeply for you, but after some thinking, I have realized that neither you nor I want this.”

“Edward,” she said, pressing her face harder into his chest. He smoothed a hand over her back, the silk of her garment soaking and cold. She was shivering still. “I should have been forthright with you many days ago.”

“And I many years ago,” he said as he looked down at her, at the tears mingling with the rain that dripped steadily from her hair. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Melinda. It has just taken some time to realize that happiness will not be with me.”

“You are assisting, now,” she breathed. A short sob burst from her and she stepped back, taking in his soft smile and warm hands still on her back and waist. “Thank you. Truly.” As he let them fall, she didn’t see the usual push of disappointment that was typical in the past. She saw only the Edward she wanted to see, full of prideful smiles as she curtsied just a little and began to stride backward toward the stairs to the second floor. “Things will be different now, I swear to you.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said.

Melinda turned; she didn’t wait to change or dry. She ran up the long flight of stairs and down the hall, chest heaving with the exertion of it until she stood in front of Jim’s door. She hesitated for only a moment before knocking.

“Enter,” came Jim’s voice, flat and unaffected.

He wasn’t packing like the rest of the castle; he sat in the chair beside the window, his head supported by a hand on his chin, eyes trained on the garden below.

She wondered for a moment if he could have seen her argument, but decided she didn’t care when he looked at her, a bewildered expression crossing her face when he recognized her standing there. Melinda left the door open and started towards him. He stood and took a few uncertain steps towards her. She could see the shakiness in his hands.

“Melinda, you are soaked through,” he said, turning to his bed to gather one of the woolen blankets from the chest at its foot. “You must be freezing!”

“Jim,” she whispered, through her chattering teeth, allowing him to wrap the blanket firmly around her shoulders. “Marry me.”

He looked at her more closely, surprise and something more bittersweet, like resignation, crowding his features. “This is not at all proper, princess,” he teased, but his tone was flat, almost fearful, and he gripped her shoulders. “I told you I would not marry you should you abdicate.”

“I did not,” she assured him, a smile winding its way over her still damp face.

He glanced away. “But I saw-”

“I did not abdicate, Jim.” Melinda stepped forward, pushing him to step back as he tried to keep a firm distance between them. “To risk losing you and my home forever, it would be too much to bear like you said.” She took another step forward.

“Then what…?” He asked, moving again to put space between them. “What happened?” He hit the table and found he had nowhere left to go. His eyes tracked over her face, at the secretive smile and the pride her eyes carried.

“Say you will marry me,” she replied.

“I cannot - I - Melinda, what is going on?”

“I am asking you to marry me, Jim, to hell with formalities.” She watched as his expression turned from concerned to curious, and she wrenched herself from his hand, gripping them tightly in her two cold ones as she fell to the floor before him. “Please, Jim. Marry me.”

He pulled her up - her skirts left shiny watermarks on the floor. “Enough with this, I saw your argument with your mother in the courtyard!” He yelled, stepping away from her. “If you did not abdicate then what have you done?”

“I have ended my engagement!” She shouted back, her voice straining against the volume. “And for the last time, James Clancy, I am asking you to please, marry me!”

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Jim’s stern brow, and his demeanor changed. He stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of her face.

“As your soon-to-be liege lady, I am commanding you to marry me, and you must do as I say!” Melinda’s voice had a tone and she wore a faux pout, which she emphasized with a stomp of her foot. 

Jim laughed and without warning, swept her up in his arms despite the wet, and kissed her deeply. “Yes, my lady,” he whispered against her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course, my lady,” he peppered her face and neck with kisses, eliciting a soft, joyous laugh. “Whatever you say, my lady.” 

Melinda let her head fall back as he kissed her throat. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and when she looked down at Jim. She saw he was crying too. She placed her hands on either side of his face and smoothed them away.

“Never call me that again,” she whispered.

“Never, Melinda,” he said and kissed her long and hard and without a single care for who in the castle were to see them.

* * *

A blur of green trees and wildflowers passed by the carriage window, a mixture of bright greens, reds, and yellows blurred about in the scenery. The farther south they went the more beautiful and hot it became, and Melinda was happy to see the rain and mud disappear.

The ride was long and there she still felt chilled, but with Jim sitting beside her, speaking softly of his life and the things he had done, the places he had seen, and she felt warmed and reassured.

They had been traveling for some hours now, and after talking about anything they could think of, kissing some and playing guessing games, she was now relaxing with her head resting on his shoulder.

It still felt all new to her, being able to show affection to the true person she loved out in the open.

Beth glanced at her often, surprising Melinda by the softness of the expressions her mother wore. Everything felt jubilant and euphoric. Katherine laughed and she caught their mother’s attention as she showed her something she was reading.

There was nothing about the situation she would change, except perhaps to give them the privacy she desired without the fear of being caught. They trundled along for hours, and as night fell and Melinda’s eyes grew weary with sleep, Jim pulled her in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She could have cried at the gentle gesture, at the public nature of their newfound freedom, but instead, she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep to the sound of the horses’ hooves and his heartbeat beneath her ear.

* * *

Jim had to return home to the outskirts of the bustling city that housed the nobility to resolve the business of his property and collect his family for the wedding. By the time he returned, the court was full, and whispers abounded of the second commoner to join the royal family.

Even with some turning dark, he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he waited patiently for the day to arrive. By the time the morning loomed around two months later, he’d only seen Melinda a handful of times since their arrival back in Calypstica.

Even so, he waited patiently to be told where to go and what to do; he was given new clothes and sent to wait somewhere away from the full court. He strolled down the hall, hands tucked into breeches nicer than anything he’d ever owned, and stopped in front of a wall lined with portraits.

Nearest him, he recognized the striking features and severe expression of Melinda’s mother, a portrait done well but depicting none of her kindness or understanding. The queen’s face was youthful, round and pink and yet it still held the same calculating expression he’d found himself supervised by on the ride here.

He swallowed at the curtained portrait beside it, not yet revealed to anyone but he and Melinda.

“I told my men not to hang it there,” came Beth’s voice from behind him.

Jim turned swiftly and bowed, producing a soft laugh from the austere woman.

“Stand, my lord,” Beth said and she strode toward him. “My daughter informed me after mass yesterday that she would like to keep the portrait, should you be willing to paint a new one for this space.”

“Of course,” he said. “But, is the tradition not to have the future queen painted before she is married?”

“It is,” she replied with a slight incline of her head. “But if you shall swear to tell no one, I will tell you a secret.”

“Of course, my lady.” He said, smiling.

“My portrait was painted after Thomas and I were already married for three weeks.” She said, glancing up at her portrait as she came to stand beside him.

Jim laughed and looked at it again, using that knowledge to read the painting differently. The pink of her cheeks, her slight smile, and her eyes all gave away the love she was in. He nodded and looked back at Beth with understanding.

“Shall we view your work briefly, Lord Clancy? I would like to see again how my daughter fell in love with you,” Beth then said, her voice gentle and sincere.

Jim’s throat thickened as she drew back the curtain, revealing the thing he had worked so hard on. His focus had shifted, of course, from working to falling in love, but he thought this was the best portrait he’d ever produced in all the time he’d been painting.

Melinda’s hair fell soft and flowing down the side of her face, over the swell of her breasts, ending just before the line of her shirt. Her left hand gripped the arm of the chair, fingers curling around the wooden armrest, while her right hand rested softly at her lips.

Her eyes, which he’d originally intended to look away, out the window, had shifted to look at whoever was viewing. The look was piercing and yet soft, full of something he couldn’t quite make out. His eyes trailed over the slope of her cheekbones, to the curve of her neck and the way her skirts waved against her legs. A hint of her left shoe peaked out.

Tears gathered in his eyes as Beth let the curtain fall again. “You have an exquisite talent that I hope you never feel you must end. Thank you, Jim.” Melinda’s mother placed a hand gently on his arm and bowed her head as she squeezed lightly. He nodded and tried to blink away the tears, which only caused them to fall. “I am sure you are needed to prepare for the ceremony. You may follow me if you wish?”

“Of course, my lady,” he said, his voice shaking.

“In private, Jim,” Beth said, using his given name for the first time since meeting, “you may call me Beth.” 

He smiled a little, heart racing, and nodded as the queen turned and lead him toward the place where he would officially become Melinda’s husband.


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: It has been a long journey and I am happy to say this is the Epilogue :) Enjoy xx Mariah**

* * *

Melinda sighed as she re-entered her bedroom, back hurting and ready to relax. Jim’s painting supplies were strewn across their long table on one end of the room, a series of small oil paintings set to dry by the window.

The room smelled of linseed oil and bread, a strangely comforting combination. Jim himself sat on the upholstered bench on the other end of the room, a few letters set on the low table in front of him, along with a teacup and a pot of tea. He looked up at her as she sat heavily beside him, hands cradling her protuberant belly.

“Holly wrote. She and Edward will bring Clarence for the baptism. And your cousin sends her regards,” he said, passing her the letter he’d finished reading.

“And prays for us to be blessed with a male child,” she said sourly, reading one of the passages from the note. “Maysilee always rambles on.” She tossed the letter beside the stack on the table as Jim picked up the next to hand it to her. “I just pray the baby is healthy.”

“As do I, my love. May he or she live a happy and long life.” He set his hand on her leg as she took the letter from him and unfurled the parchment. “This one from your sister.” He kissed her temple and stood, picking up the remaining correspondence and taking it to the writing desk.

Melinda read quickly, a smile cracking the tired expression she’d worn since entering. “She thanks me for persuading my mother to give us both freedom to marry whoever we choose,” she said, looking up at him excitedly.

“Read on, my love,” he replied, a secret smile curling his lips.

“She and Ned are to be married in five days!” Melinda stood happily, groaning as she did. “She will be coming to the castle for the birth.” Tears filled her eyes. “It has been a long time since I have seen Katherine.”

Jim met her halfway as she walked slowly around the table. He watched her move, his eyes full of a sort of awe she’d never seen before. He still made everything feel fresh and new, even a year into their marriage. She stepped in as close as she could with her belly in the way, her smile growing even fuller as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You do not know how happy it makes me to see you smile,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Are you ready to be a father, Jim?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, because this child cannot come soon enough. I grow weary of this pregnancy.”

He laughed, low and loud. “I love you, Melinda,” he whispered in her ear.

She smiled turned so she could lean her side against him; her head came to rest on his shoulder and she looked out the window, into the giant garden and beyond, towards the city she called her home. It was the dark of night yet so beautiful. “I love you, too,” she replied as her hand slid over his back and he cast a look at her.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he said, hissing at the feel of her hand.

She smirked. “Funny you should say that. In one of my letters to Holly, she told me she believes that if we’re careful, then we can be together.”

He closed his eyes at the temptation being strung out before him. “I’m begging you, don’t tease me.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “Come, have your wife, Jim Clancy. You’ve more than earned it.”

He licked his dry lips and rubbed his fingers together. “You can’t let me have control, Melinda. I don’t trust myself.” She giggled as he helped her to bed. He removed his clothes quickly and found her watching him with a fond smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked.

She shook her head. “You’re a beautiful man, Jim. Am I not allowed to ogle my husband as he disrobes?”

He climbed onto the bed beside her and pulled her as close as he could get her. “You know, it has been a while since we were together. Now that I think about it.”

She grinned and stroked her hand down his throat. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said as she pressed her lips to his. He growled against her lips and slid his hand along her flanks and hitched a leg over his hips. She winced and he released her leg. “I think we’ll have to be creative.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, taking slow sips from her mouth.

“I want you to take me,” she whispered. “Distract me, my love.” She sat up and removed her gown and settled back against the pillows, pulling him against her for more kisses.

He cupped her breasts and dropped down to taste the dark nipples. Her hands fisted in his hair, as he gave attention to each peak. One hand moved between them and stroked over his cock, he groaned as she continued her movements, but soon, he removed her hand, wanting to taste her.

He slid down the bed and kept her on her side. He could see she wanted him most, already growing slick as he smoothed his hands over the sensitive skin. She gasped as he put his tongue to her, delving between thighs, first to her entrance and then to the tiny nub.

He flicked over it and dipped back inside her, sliding his tongue inside. She reached back and grabbed a handful of his hair as his lips and tongue continued to bring her closer and closer to the edge. Melinda gasped, her body trembled beneath his hands, and she fell over the edge as the tip of his tongue circled around. Jim gave her a few lingering licks and sat back on his knees to look at her.

She had a slight amount of sweat at her brow, her skin glowing in the moonlight. He placed a kiss on the curve of her hip. He moved closer to her and behind her, scooping her in his arms and angling her hips back against his. His cock slid against her and she reached back to grab at him.

He slipped his arm beneath her neck, wrapping around her shoulders as his other hand guided him inside her. She was so hot, clenching around him as he slid inside. He went as far as he could and placed kisses along her shoulder and neck. She flexed around him and he groaned against her skin.

“Make me yours again, Jim,” she murmured.

His hips moved quickly against hers as he held her back against him. She was digging her nails into his forearm and hip, her moans filling the room. He knew that going too deep made her uncomfortable and so he tried to only go to the point where she almost purred at his thrusts. She turned her head and he captured her lips with his, his tongue sliding against hers, trying to postpone his own desire for release and bring her to another.

The hand at her hip slipped between her legs and he relished in her long moan as he worked her body to the shattering point. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of her. In fact, he was certain he wouldn’t. She broke the kiss to moan his name again, and then felt the fluttering of her walls around his cock, her body trembling in his arms, as she fell over the edge once more. She clutched at him harder, her mewls of pleasure sparking his own desire.

“Come for me, my love,” she whispered and that was it.

He buried his face against her shoulder, feeling the release from the base of his spine as he came inside her. He took shuddering breaths and pressed kisses against her skin as he came down.

She suddenly sat up in bed and stood. “I’ll be right back,” she said and he sat up on his elbow and watched her escape into the ensuite. When she came back, she had a smile on her face. He held the covers up for her and presented her with a pillow to tuck beneath her belly and between her legs. “You are far too good to me,” she said softly.

He leaned in to place a kiss on her nose. “No, my love, I believe it has always been you who is too good to me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I love you, Jim. I hope you know how much.” She said, smiling.

He nodded and smiled in return. “I do. And you know my life would mean nothing without you, right?”

She shook her head again, a serious look on her face. “No. I don’t think that’s true. You’re such a good man. You would have found good in the world without me. You are a good husband, a good lord and I am sure you will be a wonderful father, too.”

He brushed his fingers over her bare arm. “I wish I had your faith in me," he sighed.

“You do. Only your faith is in me,” she explained. “That’s why we work. We believe in one another when the rest of the world could doubt us.”

He leaned in and placed another kiss on her lips. “Once again, my love, I believe you’re right.” He replied.

She cupped his face and smiled. “Say that again, hmm?” She giggled. "And again."


End file.
